Burn The House Down: A Poem

Have you ever been a good girl?

Have you felt guilty, repentant?

Hands running over my mouth,

Fingers through my hair, curse words,

From one ear to the next, the ringing

Sounds in my stomach, the heat, captured,

Resilient, persistent, up and down the whole

Body, within your grasp, stinging toxicity.


The fingers move around me like ropes,

Laces, enlarged, accumulated, thick, hair

Caught within the fabric, the textures of

Your self-loathing, of your emptiness,

Your shattered dreams that you never dreamed of,

Considered, evaluated, tossed to the side, of the road,

Crushed, without stopping, hit-and-run, blood on

Your scalp, painted my body with that blood,

With that frustration and disappointment,

The sick hope and envy you injected my skin with.


You and I, we moved violently towards and away

From each other, I had your face and turned it into

My own, I walked through the scaffold you erected

For me and burned it to the ground, I came out alive

And feel my own name resonate in my strong bones,

Across every single organ, I holler and rage and love

And set myself free on a daily basis, you made the universe

Your nemesis, I create myself anew and incorporate it in every part of my own body.

woman on a flower field
Photo by Maksim Goncharenok on Pexels.com

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