- Non-Erotic Poetry
- My Fantasy
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In 95 we split because of domestic abuse. He sold my car and kept the money. I should have known better. After a decade with him, he only pushed and hit when he said I provoked him. Usually with disobedience or when I tried to stand myself up straight. It was the other stuff too, the witty put-downs, the chore list and the cleaning requirements, always keeping me broke, fetch this for me I'm tired, the cheap trash gifts, the shut the fuck up cunts, the when he was bored manipulation into his dark desires. That was my fantasy he kept reminding. The time he ruined my shot at a dream by confessing over the phone that his best bud had tried to kiss him. You're fat. The people you come from are trash. When I looked closer everything got blurry. The this is how it happened and the you're not thinking straights. The pushing. The ambulance rides to financial ruin. Being wrestled down after saying no.
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