There Is Only Me
A poem

There is only me. At home and in my head. Will anyone ever know the menace in his words?
Bullets throbbing in my ears burning match sizzling my mouth ice cubes between my legs salt on open heart bleeding for what was.
Bare feet stomping a basket of red cherries where is the love? Like climbing an old rusty ladder missing the last step I stretch my right arm I can’t touch the spider web.
I walk the noisy streets of Manhattan an ambulance siren splits my ears: his voice! Sharp red manicured nails down a dirty chalkboard someone make him stop!
My mind a parachute undulating in the wind. There is only me.
I wrote this over 15 years ago as part of a collection of poems for my Senior Thesis in Creative Writing. At that time I was married to a man with whom it was impossible to disagree. To prove a point. To be heard and understood. It was always his way or no way at all. Today, he is no longer with us. And I hope he rests in peace. He was my best teacher.
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