You're a pillar of smoke
that rises up
out of a pile of ash leftover
from a fire I thought
I'd extinguished long ago.
You're the **** of a cigarette
now smoldering
much after I've quit smoking,
and the smell of you
reaching my nostrils
brings acid from my stomach
to my throat
and I'm forced to choke for a moment.
You're the dark ring
around the tub
even after years of scrubbing,
and I hate it because
it reminds me of the rings,
dark and stubborn
around my eyes.
You're the agitated
pressure marks
on either side of my nose
from the glasses I habitually wear
although I've far outgrown them.
You're the splinter
that sits just far enough beneath my skin
that any attempt to remove it
just furthers my irritation.
I can try to forget about you,
let you slowly work your way out,
but it simply takes one rub,
one bump in the right direction
to remind me
you're still there
and I'm sore all over again.
Simply the thought of you
makes me ache.
I ache from my shins
like I did that night
you swung a metal bar across them.
And my ***.
And my chest.
And the back of my head
when I tried to roll away from your thunder.
I ache from my lips
like I used to when they'd swell
from the contact of your palms
or your knuckles
or my teeth
so I could hold back my screams.
I ache from my throat
like I would for days
after you would grab me -
I swear you'd squeeze harder every time,
and if given a choice now,
I'd happily pick a noose
over your hand any day.
But most often I ache
from my head as a whole -
my eyes,
my nose,
my mouth -
my temples throb.
I can hear my own heartbeat -
Everything tingles
like when you would box me,
pack me up with your fists
into a small package,
sealed with the stamp
of your forehead
pecked against mine
like a hammer to a nail.
But every beginning has an end,
under pressure
diamonds are formed,
and it's only after a star is destroyed
that we see it twinkle from Earth.
Every bruised eye
has made mine shine brighter.
Every fat lip
has made my smile wider.
Every tear, every plea choked back
has made my song louder.
I am now
the tree you tried to cut down
but my seeds already fell
and I'm growing again.
I am the picture
you tried to shred
but I became a puzzle
and someone else
put me together.
I am the star
you tried to black out
with your darkness,
but I became the sun
and now it's summer time.
Trigger Warning : Domestic Abuse
