Sharp as mustard
his words stung and left
a trail of poison in my veins
the marks that you see on my face
are the scarred gashes of my heart
parts of my body hurt
even with friction of the clothes
I’m used to the metallic taste
of the human blood
“Perform” he used to say
his sandpaper lips
corroded my skin
rapacious, savage, fire-breathing monster
with tongue whipping in and out like a snake
his fangs exposed and dripping
large paws groping, trusting , tearing
mauling and ripping my soul
confused, deranged, wet and slimy
I lugged my pain streaked carrion
meticulously concealed
nothing but a battered rag doll
with a wound between the legs
who says “time is a healer”
it torments, prolongs
I mulled memory wine for long
filled glasses, raised toasts
got drunk
and then one day
sprawled on the cold floor
I packed my dreams
gathered my hopes
threw you in the trash
crumpled ball of ink smudged paper
No more a sacrificial lamb
or a tasty morsel
a part of your feast
No more a nauch girl
a marionette
a trophy wife
to flaunt
and
keep encased
behind concrete walls
when not in use
I would rather
live on the streets
under the open sky
but will not be used, abused
humiliated, I won’t
become your trophy wife
I won’t succumb, I’ll fight
I will give up
but won’t give in
my soul is hardened
I am a rock
Spinning a Yarn Of Life 