History

My man says he wants to know my history

I’d rather let it remain a mystery

I’d rather root into the present and grow a vibrant life

Than be blown over by memories of past storms and strife

Battered by hard knocks too soon

I hungered for the elusive silver spoon

How can I tell him about that first burning sting

Of too-soon penile penetration, I was barely fourteen

Of teenage crushes that crushed my heart

To this day I wrestle with heartbreak in the dark

Of older men with erectile dysfunction

I thought I’d moved beyond that at this junction

How can I tell him about the prima donnas

Inexplicably exploding bombs of drama

How can I tell him about the mobster

Who said I was safe because he had a loaded gun in his trunk

If I was so safe, why was he driving drunk?

How can I tell him about the rich man who offered me everything

Except happiness and peace

I’ve dropped men so fast they felt hit by concrete

Don’t come between me and my dreams

I’ve made a lot of mistakes, painful and blistery

Yet I keep moving forward to write my own history

Trapped Truth

He demands the truth from me

I want to tell him but I don’t think he wants to hear
That his fears are both false and true
What’s a battered girl to do
You prod and poke
I divert and joke
Gasping for air under the heaviness in my heart
You want to know my story, where to start?
You can learning everything there is to know
Without asking questions, simply observe
I’m trying to move on from the past
Why do you bring me back
How many times will you bring me back?
I know he knows in his heart
The truth of the depths of my womb
Truth trapped in my mouth like a tomb
I’m sorry
Please forgive me
I love you
Thank you