“The things you think are the disasters in your life
are not the disasters really. Almost anything can be turned around:
out of every ditch, a path, if you can only see it.”
― HILARY MANTEL, Bring Up the Bodies
–
INNER CITY STORIES
I struggle to express my emotions
I hide my sadness with anger
And I hide my anger behind raised fists and harsh words
You continue to test me
You find humor within my fits of rage
You find my wounds and press into them until tears begin falling from my eyes
My frustration is aimed so perfectly at you
But though my hands are so steady
And my mind is set on engulfing you with such a horrific anger
I fear that this frustration will ricochet and like an arrow pierce my heart and fill me only with pain
This stress I allow you to cause me is unbearable
It scares me that someone so unintelligent and dim could have such a negative effect on me
You see through me
You see my need to feel wanted and cared for
You do not find my wounds, you create them
I could not quite recognize you for such a long time
But when I finally feel at peace because you are finally not with me
I see you staring back at me
Such a familiar face
Someone I once found comfort in seeing
Someone who I was so glad to wake up to every morning
Now so terrifying
This face has not been in my nightmares
This face has never been in my fears
This face I have only seen in the mirror