he said, but(starting to unravel)

the last time he shoved me to a wall
he wanted to know where his lighter was
(or so he said) i had offered to help him
i thought i could help him find it
i was still trying to help him

but you really weren't mad about the lighter at all in fact i later found it where i had told you you had left it and you said i looked there and it wasn't there, (then he said where did you hide it you bitch)

he said i was always sabotaging him
making him come to me making him
ask me for every little thing.
he said i was controlling
he said it gave me kicks,
you manipulative bitch

he said i'm tired of begging for sex
he said you never offer it
i always have to take it,
you frigid fat ass bitch

but the truth is when i offered it you never wanted it it just doesn't do it for you unless you take it which probably explains why i was always waking up to find you there, already taking.

he says i'm tired of doing
all the work around here
you just sit around doing nothing
you lazy bitch

but you spit on the wall in the bathroom and break doors and chairs and glasses
and i clean it up i clean it all up the children's tears the broken promises the bills unpaid the lies discovered the pets gone missing for years and years i've cleaned it up, done my best to make it look presentable

he says i'm tired of working so hard
to earn all the money and you won't
even wake your lazy ass up and
make me breakfast or cook me dinner

but for years i did and you would tell me you didn't have time to eat it or you felt sick and couldn't or it wasn't what you wanted (i'm going to taco bell.)

he says i'm tired of earning
all the money and not getting
any of it for myself.

but you buy beer and pot, God knows what, and we have six kids, do you know how much daycare is? and whenever i get a job you come home late and so i'm late or you start a fight before my shift and i can't focus on what i'm supposed to be doing. and i just can't function like that, i just couldn't function

he says you never want to do
anything anymore come for a drive
let's go out and have some fun.

but every time we get in a car its an opportunity for you to terrorize me some little thing will always set you off and you fly down the road taking risks with our lives screaming and yelling at your captive audience knowing i can't walk away there is nowhere to hide yeah that was some fun, i'll tell you.

he says i've given you all my good years and
i'm all used up and you've broken me, and
i don't have any options left you user,
you manipulative bitch.

but you cut me down every time, never let me share my thoughts, were highly offended at the slightest diversion from your view of reality, your twisted reality, made me sit through your vile explosions of hateful spewing your paranoid viewing, and all along you knew exactly what you were doing, you pinned me down, sat on me once for an hour maybe longer i can't remember, choked me, threw me, kicked me and your words they were constantly working to deceive me your lies lies lies lies how easily you lied. lied to me to your family to your children your coworkers the neighbors telemarketers my friends your friends my family even God.

he says you never listen to me you
don't respect me have turned
the children against me
i'm not a man in my own home.

but i never even got a word in edgewise you discounted every thought i tried to share. and i remember you telling me you'd smash my skull if you thought you could get away with it, but i just wasn't worth the jail time and you hoped wild dogs would drag my body down the street while the children watched. while the children watched, as the children listened, you said that. and what kind of man would do that? look at the big man you are. what a good father you are.

and not once in those long long years
while i patiently tried to help you grow,
while i stood by in helpless surrender and
watched my dreams of love and family
die before my eyes,
while i took it in and held it secret,
made the best of it i could, tried to
hold it all together, tried, did all that
i could think to do

not once, did you let slip from your lips a single sincere apology, not even one word of remorse. and i can't figure out why i stayed so long, why did i stay so long?

--bruised orange

until tomorrow, pain

my therapist wants me to tell her
all about my pain
she tells me this will help me
begin to heal again

she gave me an assignment
told me to write all about it
just put it all down in writing
what that hurt feels like.

but i can't wrap my head around it
it's much too large a task
i can't even find a place to begin
unraveling it's sticky mass

i will begin to think on something
a memory starts to form
but skitters away
before my eyes
my pain must be feeling shy.

i keep trying to peg something down
sit on it a while and ponder
but those memories remain elusive
like some irritating gnat, i can't find.

and what if it does begin to unravel?
what happens then, i ask you?
will it strangle and choke,
bind and defile me,
will it break me as it did before?

maybe instead of writing
about my hurt and how it feels
i should slather it with marmalade
and cram it down his throat!

but no, that just won't do.
i guess instead i'll sleep on it,
and try again tomorrow.

--bruised orange

Poetry is Dangerous

gold tipped words
swirl about my head,
demanding to be let out.

while the laundry piles,
the dust gathers,
the pantry grows depleted.

but how can i choose these mundane tasks
when pen and paper beckon?

poetry is dangerous, i tell you.

come night my task
is to close my eyes,
to rest my tired body.

but how can i choose sleep
when anger scorches my weary breast?
when words, bearing witness to my pain
cry out Oh!
one more, one more!

--bruised orange

fickle

slapped up raw for the world to see
my story no longer concealed
the mask's come off, oh authentic self!
what freedom in being revealed!

but now that i lay naked here
exposed for all to see
i find your interests waning
in the complexities of me.

would that you had come inside
we'd have gotten well acquainted
but never mind i see your face remains--

heavily painted.

--bruised orange

broken record(repairs in progress)

Sweet children,
i am so easily irritated,
i am so quickly drained.

i see my foul negativity
blanch your tender hearts,
but too late, the deed is done.

i'm working on it.

i want you to understand,
but what words
can help you see?

(tell them, tell them)
the Voice whispers
(show them, show them)
yes, the path is clear.

but how can i explain?

his bitterness
has become
a way of life for me.
I seem to have stepped in
now that he has stepped out.

and how can i show you
a better way
when you are
stuck like me?

not now, not now
i can't
i'm sorry, i'm sorry.

my empty words
and broken promises
will not become my epitaph.

i'm working on it.

--bruised orange

coarctation

I outgrew you
long ago.
Like some
well-loved
sweater
from
childhood,
Like some
corset
clinging
to my
frame,

You bound
and warped.
You suffocated
and bit.

Like some
bent tree,
i grew
stunted by
your rocky
soil.

Until the sweater
finally tore,
until the clasps rusted,
the corset fell to the floor,
until the tree was
transplanted
to a distant shore.

i've retired you.
i'm starting to breath.
my blossoms
unfurl.

--bruised orange

beseeching

this morning i woke
to find You
trying to reach me
yet again

stubbornly
i continue
to ignore
Your call

what madness
drives the heart
to fear the intimacy
of so dear a Friend?

and what words
will bring me
rushing back
to Your loving
embrace?

--bruised orange

one promise

little child
from crooked home
you've grown bent
but not for lack of trying

the sun did its best
but shadows still
formed the net
that held you back

out from cover
now reach up!
my hand is here
i will not slip.

--bruised orange

dry season

i am a river
flowing along

steady and constant
i've always been

where is the rain
that could change me?

give me turbulence,
waterfalls,
rapids,
flood my banks

this drought
has gone on
far too long.

--bruised orange

at least

someone asked me today
'how do you feel?'

how do i feel?
i do not feel

but at least now,
i have started to cry

and that is something,
at least,
to hold on to

--bruised orange

to those i have let down

for my friendships lost
no time can erase
the hurt i have caused
but if it helps you to reconcile
i was dead, in a way,
he did kill me
in the worst way
a person can be killed

for the pain
and the confusion
that i may have caused
know it wasn't meant
i couldn't help it
it was all i could do
to survive

i loved you then
through the years of my silence
even though you didn't hear it
i said it every day

and if you find a way
to forgive me
i will be here
waiting

--bruised orange

festering sore

once i thought,
my pain was imagined
i tucked it away
in a soft place

it festered and grew
it raged and it shouted
it got my attention

i'm listening now

--bruised orange

Notice

you took music from me
you took song
you took away laughter
and prayer
and the feeling that i belong

you took away joy
you stole peace
you took reading
you took my strength

you took my dreams
you robbed my soul
you took it all
you took it all


listen up
mother fucker
i'm taking it back

--bruised orange

a real sister

i am a real sister

i am real

i have loved and been through hell to be loved

was it worth it, you ask?

i haven't decided.

when sleep won't come

here i am again
awake
but so tired
self flagellation
feels so good


i need something
but can't find it
don't know where to look
don't know what it looks like
i keep searching
into the late hours

--bruised orange

as much as i want to

i know all about you now.
you won't ever fool me again.
i know who you are
i know what you are
i know what you did,
what you do.
i know you

as much as i want to
i know you

but you don't know me
you don't know my strength
you don't know my love
you don't know my courage
my pain
you don't know me at all

so go on with your lies
with your games
with your twisting and turning
the truth
find a new mark
this one is now out of your reach.

--bruised orange

What i've lost

You bastard!
you took my life,
took it and ground it into nothing
took my soul,
you tore it apart.
used me up,
spat me out.

you bastard!
you blamed me for it all
told me it was my fault,
took advantage of my love,
of my trust, of my decency.

you bastard!
you lied to me every day!
you sucked out my soul
and blamed me for your pain!

you bastard
you bastard

--bruised orange

What it Means to Me

feeling alone, feeling scared,
no reason to, just me with myself.
there you were, right then and there,
you were perfect.

i've been having this happen,
the past couple of weeks.
as crazy as i am now,
don't think i don't notice.

you were right there,
hearing me talk,
listening to me,
you were perfect.

and like the other day,
a friend came to town,
hadn't seen her in a while,
but her timing,
well, it was perfect.

the messages i'm getting,
they don't feel so profound,
until i add them together,
and i hear the sound.

the sound.
i think maybe it is God?
calling me back?
isn't that what you said?
is that even possible?
it's gotten me thinking.

so when i say to you,
you were perfect,
please believe me,
because that is the truth.
perfect timing,
God's instrument.
calling me back,
helping me see,
i'm not alone,
i'm not alone,
i'm not alone.

--bruised orange