(Thanks to Ms. CripChick, BFP and Cecelia for inspiration)
A history of hate
Pain
running through veins,
etched in the tenderest parts
of the soul
is not a spectator sport.
No.
Hate is
not
oil
and love is
not
water.
A body
a woman
is not your stereo
your car
your booze
She does not need your
care
because she is not
yours.
A man
a boy
are not paintings
to tear apart
because you don’t like
the pictures of
you.
Anger is not
water
filling up all the space
it can.
That’s
why
I am
laughing
even when
I’m hurt
and pissed
off.
I’ve been angry at you,
am still angry at you,
and though you found
“assertive”
in a dictionary
I’ve never seen,
you make
me smile
today.
Singing
loud
and full
is not
banished.
There’s joy
and squawking
and marching
and speaking
and speaking
and speaking
and you can
not
take them
away from me.
Us.
Sweet Perdition 