I’m putting on my perfume
as you enter the bathroom
“Smells like cancer,”
was your answer

Wish I’d been fearless
against your meanness
instead of hurt and speechless

“I never hit you”
That’s true
That’s not what you do

Words, not fists, you use
to lie,
to confuse
to strike
and abuse
Words don’t leave a bruise

“*****” is not my name
“****,” more of the same
But you have no shame
“Just a fight,” you claim

“You’re just sensitive”
You told me
And I accept that excuse
for years of emotional abuse

I stay
until one day
I’m brushing my teeth
as our son enters the bathroom,
“Why is dad always mean to you?”
Those words became the straw
that broke the camel’s back

And now me and my perfume
are never coming back

choose your mirrors carefully

what those mirrors reflect will cling to you like perfume
tint your vision like sunglasses

don’t let a broken mirror trick you into thinking you, too, are broken

look carefully
look long
look with eyes wide open

a mirror will always reveal it’s true nature in times of stress

Be vigilant!

here’s the secret
when you realize the ugliness
is a reflection of the broken mirror
not you
you can walk away

walk away
into the light
into the freedom

walk into the loving embrace of those who show you your true self

I know
because I did

To be a woman:

To be a woman is to bleed.
From between our legs, as young as nine, when the only worry in our young minds should be about scraped knees from riding bikes and scooters, the visceral meaning of womanhood begins to leak through the soft cotton amour of childhood.
The impending doom of what could be warded off by a child's imagination has cracked and no longer can be repaired.
This is the fate of a woman.
From that day we bleed.
Shoving gauze of soft smiles and politeness into bullet holes bore into our bodies by men.
Anything to stop the bleeding and remain a fragment of the person we once were.
We’re blithe in the presence of grown men that become aroused to the notion of humiliating us.
We try to feign ignorance and keep a straight face in times of turbulence to maintain modesty.
Our nails embedded into our palms, we bleed.
And a storm has formed.
Through the storm we seek the same refugee we watched our mothers seek. Always thinking that the outcome will be different.
This one is not the same.
We’re not our mothers.
Our love is different.
It’s respected.
It’s mutual…
as long as you’re the one doing the laundry and the cooking and the cleaning and you pay your half and you look after the child that you nearly bled out for.  
Nurturing, tending, cooking and cleaning and ‘whoops’ watch the knife…

bleeding.
Always bleeding.
It’s equal love though, isn’t it?
It’s what you wanted, right?
When you bore two children and you’re raising three, that’s what you wanted. That’s what you bled for.
That’s what you bled for?

Who has he bled for?


He walks into the kitchen, boots scuffing the linoleum on the way.
Dumping the scrapped leftovers of love you gave him in the early out of the morning into the trash and tossing the containers into the sink.
He pats the heads of the people he pretends make him whole and goes to the shower to rinse off the 10 hour shift of hard labor that didn't involve his family.

You don’t expect a kiss at this point because you learned that asking for what you deserve could come with a broken orbital socket.
So you let your heart bleed.
You bleed it into your kids.
You let them know that they are loved.
You pretend that everything is okay.
You go to work, you come home, you bleed and you bleed and you bleed.

Hopeful that your daughter doesn’t see.

She is The One That Got Away
This is who she is to him now
Who she is to herself

It is newly tattooed on her soul
This new identity
She became this despite his best efforts
Countless words to trick her into believing she was The One That Stayed
Clever words, to confuse her and cloud reality
Soft words, to flatter and ******
Sharp words, to cut, to make her bleed out her resolve

She used to be The One That Stayed
She played that part for many years
Until the stars aligned illuminating the path to a new role
A role many have died trying to get

She made it out and got away
Not all at once
Slowly
Piece by piece

First, her heart
Until she was numb
She felt nothing during his declarations of love,
Emotionless during his promises of change
All his tearful pleading simply echoed in her hollowed out chest

Then her body
Fleeing to the strong arms of her sisters
To the safe house of a friend
Then to a new home among long grasses and tall trees

Finally, her head got away
Like sand from an hourglass, his lies emptied out
Making room for beauty,
the healing wisdom of her helpers,
the power of her truth

Yes, she is The One That Got Away
The judge issued an order to legally make it so
The officers took him away when he refused to believe it
Another judge declared it again
And her new last name tells it to the world

For all new tomorrows
and all of today
She is and will remain
The One That Got Away

I did not run away
I ran to

To the end of angry criticisms masquerading as love
To freedom from the dark cloud of your untreated mental illness
To standing on solid ground instead of walking on eggshells
To the time and space to discover my strength, my skills, my autonomy
To doing everything you taught me I needed you to do
To seeing my sincere happiness reflected on my son’s face
To the luxurious solitude of a queen bed all to myself
To waking up with a smile
To waking up

I did not run away from you
I ran
to me

Tonight I will
Enjoy my bed
While you lay in yours
I wonder if you regret it all
After the first night when guards closed the doors
When you were on the inside
With absolutely nothing you could do
I still can’t believe the time has come
Punishment for the destruction that comes with you
I never thought it’d be real
You understanding what it feels like
To be a powerless prisoner
Giving everything you got- to still lose the fight

Do you lose sleep over me
Putting you where you belong
Do the voices in your head still tell you I’m in the wrong?

I wonder how many months
It will take to break your spirit

All you have is your thoughts
How many memories till you hear it

The muffled screams, my terrified eyes
Or are your memories filled with stories saying I’m the bad guy

Blaming your true colors on account of being high
While you looked down at me on the floor, beating me just enough not to die

Are you angry with me because I got away?

If you could see me tomorrow do you know what you would say?
I think you would walk right past me
Without even a look
Making me feel like I was nothing
It’s the biggest play from your book

I think about this often
If I had the chance, what would I say
I forgive you for making the biggest mistake of your life
Knowing I’m the one that got away