(Spirit Talking) Emancipating Me

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I worshiped dead men for their strength, forgetting I was strong. Vita Sackville-West

Submitted: February 08, 2010

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Submitted: February 08, 2010

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Broken — as in unfixable; more than simply damaged

Shattered like the plate I threw across the room when I was pregnant with your child

You remember, the one you wanted me to have until I conceived him.

Beaten down by words, by actions, by threats,

by lies, absences and accusations.

Strangled and tangled and trapped.

Emotionally battered—tender and sore,

please don’t touch me,

please stop yelling,

please, please, please

don’t talk to me anymore.

Separation number two:

That call. Sitting in my car.

“When are you going to get it through your thick fucking skull that I don’t want you?

I don’t love you. I don’t like you. I don’t want you as my wife. I don’t want YOU.”

Reconciliation number three:

Stockholm’s Syndrome of love?

Mr. Hyde has reappeared.

Two months later and it is supposedly

in MY best interest to remain tethered

to your unremitting control.

criticism and cruelty

Alice Sebold wrote, “You either save yourself or you remain unsaved.”

Caynan, I am not a victim.

I don’t want to be a survivor.

I just want to be me again.

And I have to leave you to do it.


© Copyright 2017 A. J. Meader. All rights reserved.

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