“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