Who’s to say
it wasn’t so bad
except he who hasn’t lived it –
the thunderous debasement and shuddering jolts
jetting from his lips,
rocketing through the tense fog buffering the air between
on a mission
programmed to pierce through the heart
proficiently
stealthily
mercilessly through flesh with a verbal sword
sharpened by hate and coated with poisonous barbs
who’s to say
I could have stopped him
except he who hasn’t been on the losing side
of a battle with the devil no one is ever equipped to win –
the cataclysmic aftershocks and shock waves
falling from his fists like sledgehammers
against my skull
emitting blinding flashes of light before my eyes
and heaving me down
reeling
spinning
drowning into the tumult –
jack hammers on fire
tearing through flesh
searing the bone
with an inferno of pain
who’s to say
I was free to leave at any time
except he who’s never felt the weight of the invisible fetters
pulling them down to the cold cement floor
lining the depths of the abyss of despair and isolation –
shackles made of threats
shame
humiliation
fear
solitary confinement
and hopelessness weighing me down
tearing into my flesh yet leaving no physical evidence or scars
where the eye could see
who’s to say I should have seen it coming
except he has the benefit of my hindsight
and access to the cartography of all the horrific events my life has wandered through
mapped out in eerie precision
marked up with after-thoughts and warning signs
that only make sense after you’ve lived it –
the gas lighting
manipulation
lies
seduction
confusion and crazy-making
that hit you full force like you’ve been thrown against the wall
and in the shock of it all,
the mind-racing,
the panic,
the need to rationalize quickly bury logic and reason and interpretation in a shallow grave
and leave it to slowly disintegrate into the fallow earth of a shattered heart.
who’s to say
that I could be at fault
except he who has lived in total perfection
raises a finger
wagging it about in blind, unscrupulous scorn –
when I spent endless days that faded into years
ducking swings, dodging blows, and navigating minefields
camouflaged as eggshells
moving as deliberately as i could in a futile attempt not to crush them
but they shattered apart
tore through the soles of my feet like nails
and trapped me in the vice
as I plead for mercy
begged for forgiveness
apologized for manufactured transgressions that I did not commit
as I desperately battled a racing mind trying to find a solution to it all
to make him stop
to be a better woman
to be worth more than a punching bag
shredded by his fists
too desperate and lonely and confused and achingly ashamed
to see that it wasn’t me.
So who’s to say they told me so
or they could do better
or tell me in advice I didn’t ask for
what they would have done
where I went wrong
in my fallibility
for doing nothing more
than giving someone my heart genuinely
So who’s to say
that I was at fault at all
Because I wasn’t
but what you would never expect
with that finger wagging in my face
is just how much people like you are part of the problem
Who’s to say
really who else can say
anything about what I lived
no one else but me
