I don’t know how to be sorry

For something I didn’t do

But I do know how to hurt

Because you think I did.

---

When the dust eventually settles

And you can look me in the face

I will still want to ask you

Aren’t we better than this?

---

There’s always hope for repair

But when someone asks for their stuff back

The broken pieces start heading for the trash.

---

I will never understand

Why the countless hours

We spent together

Were not enough witness

To the kind of person I am.

---

You have become a stranger

And what’s harder to digest

Is the feeling that you always were.

---

Some day I’d like

For people to seek me out

To sit at my feet and listen

As I tell the story of how I got here

Not because what I will say

Is revolutionary or profound

But because I, just like you,

Have a deep desire to be heard.

---

Imagine

Being the kind of man who says

To the woman who has endured

His lies, gaslighting, silence and

Punishing cruelty

“You can’t call me an abuser.”

Yes, sir, I can.

And I did.

And I will do it again.

---

I am not the kind of woman

Who is grateful for crumbs

When I see everyone else 

Enjoying a chunk of the loaf

So when I smack your puny olive branch

Right out of your outstretched hand

Ask yourself 

Why

You thought I should be satisfied 

With your inadequate offering.