Wednesday, May 21, 2014

After The Act

(image credit here)

I disentagle myself
from the stained 
and crumpled sheets
Blink at the bleak morning light
peeking through the curtains
from a sun
too ashamed
to share its light
on somebody like me
whose dignity
lay in pieces
scattered across the room
like every piece of dirty laundry
that came off
with the remaining shreds
of self-respect
I may have left
For there is no turning back
from the time I lay open
Every part of my trembling soul
for his dirty unfaithful hands
to touch
to claim
to possess
and I gave it to him
Every last inch of the woman I tried to become
Somebody-to be's perfect muse
Somebody-to-be's ideal wife
as I slowly became the woman
I never wanted to be
There was no fitting the pieces back together
Because the moment he touched me
I was undone
The thread unwinding from the tapestry
of my perfectly imagined future
The moment he touched me
he crushed my soul into powder
I became the drug, the perfect escape
the scapegoat to all his mistakes
The moment
I let him touch me
ended any beginnings
I may have left
in this lifetime
There was no future
with a person
who'd replace his present with me
A present full of diapers and teething rings
Lipstick stains on collars
Phone numbers hidden in cigarette packs
A tan line on the left hand's fourth finger
And lying
and cheating
I became another notch
in another couple's bedpost
Another notch in the belt
of a cheating scumbag
Another check off
an adulterer's fuck list
I look around the room and observe
the crime scene of the death
of the me I could respect
I see the murder of a girl
who has no idea
of what a woman really is
That more than enticing flesh
model bone structure
and beauty that all the make-up
and fashion can fake
Was that the woman that died in that room
could have had so much
without having him
That she was infinitely more
than a one-night stand
or nights with a borrowed husband
That she deserved more
than being a lie or a secret
That she deserved to be loved
for the whole universe to see
But she will never know
for no one will tell her she was right
no one but the reflection
on the cracked bathroom mirror
of a girl with messy hair
a tear-streaked face
lips swollen from last night's sins
and a broken soul
who will tell her she regrets
ever saying yes
never saying no
No one will tell her
that after she leaves that room
she will meet the man
who wouldn't mind her scars
and wash away the stains
left by the man who bled her dignity dry
She will meet the man who will love her
and let the universe know
But no one will tell her
because she never left the room
The cracks on the mirror became a fissure
a breaking
to the blue-green lines
just under the skin
the warm, warm skin
of her face
her palms
her lips
her wrists
Long, jagged lines
of purple and blue-green
slashed to dark
dark red
No one will tell her anything
No one will tell her to fight
for she owns no one
no one to fight for her
no one to fight for
no one to fight
no one

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