The Feminist Divorce

“You’re overreacting,” he said.

I hung my head in shame.

That doesn't happen anymore, he declared

I nodded and climbed into bed.

I bit my tongue,

And strangled my voice

‘Cause He doesn't want to hear

And so, I let him do everything

He said wasn't possible.

My mind tangled words,

One fighting to remain hidden,

The other for freedom:

Until he raised his hands upon my cheek

And colored my eyes a pretty purple.

My courage surged a hairline fracture

“I want a divorce.”

No one will believe you, he raged

I cringed and believed.

So I took the dog

(He took the house)

And with a sharp needle and thread,

Sewed my words inside my mouth,

And went on with my life.

People would see a glimpse of fatigue,

And ask for assurance that I was okay,

I’d smile and nod, Just fine! I’d respond

Even though they’d already gone.

Every blank interaction, a struggle ensued

As they pulled at the sutures

Craving to be heard.

And as they ripped free

Leaving me bloody and raw,

I’d swallow them whole,

Since no one wanted to know.

And then one day,

My sister pointed at me.

“You’re haunted!”

Those words, long dead,

Still followed me.

My body rumbled, my stomach clenched

Until I vomited them out.

And She was there,

Sifting through the jumble

Until the last one emerged,

Dragging with it a sigh.

And with the struggle finally over,

Power surged.

So I called him up:

“Fuck you.”