Abused
you are angry
at yourself.
you feel
impregnated- swollen with
primordial rage blistering,
splintering your rib cage.
pretty blush pink lips firm and tense
with disgust.
warm chasing, begging, pleading
-for love—
what has become?
your children stare back through
ashen grey frosted pane—
Freeze frame blue screen eyes.
They are
freezing.
your connection is freezing—
and you sob
for a man who ices his conflicted interior
Intentionally
and spits on your offerings, dismissively
shoves his anger like fingers down your throat as you vomit pleading nothings.
you are a stronger, now- to yourself.
The internal dialogue- print press tapping,
Always muttering
“but they didn’t love me this much.”
“But it could have been worse.”
“But if only I-“
its okay.
I
love
you
this much and
I
See
Your
Worth
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