The Bride

There is a box

Hidden under a bed

Holding secrets

Not mine to tell

But its stench seeped into

My bones while I clung to my mother’s womb

Like radiation

Warping every cell

Struggles less than their own

So they were blotted out

Expunged from the records

How about now?

Bad enough to be noticed?

Are the tears valid now?

Does it matter what happened?


My own actions

My own choices

MY own forced hand

That penned this tragedy

That now rips me along its path

Being dragged behind

Regardless of the bloodied

Path that follows 

Will there ever be truth

Or justice

Or degradation enough

To be able to voice out this pain?

To be able to speak out the truth?

Without a, “Yes but it could’ve been worse” 

Will these people wake up

To see that utopia is false

Retirement is a dream

If you build your house upon a

Promise you made to yourself

There is no guarantee

Did I dream of pain

And desire solitude

This monster was created into

Its own isolation

Sometimes there is no other way

But yes, lets go give birth in the field

With the other animals

Where we belong

And pretend like we made it this way

While others deserve a private palace

To get away from our smell

I will tear you down with my fingers

And wish you pain with my breath

But just like him, all I wanted was

To be loved

And seen

And accepted 

But I will NOT be like her

Asking where my husband is

As I search an empty bank of memories

Forgetting that I had never visited an alter

I had never taken those sacred vows

For if he does not come

He is not wanted

And I will not seek him out

Just like I will not wait for her

To speak in sorrow

As she washes the dirt from my cheek

Begging for forgiveness after cutting me from her hip

These are words of desperation

No sane woman would speak

Welcome to the show, my dears

Admission is one honest thought

This dress may be tattered and torn

But the cake is divine

Ms. Havisham agrees


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