I awoke with promise:
promise of a new day,
new world.
A world where wisdom came
only in happiness,
where happiness was unrelated
to self-worth
and the only true promise was
of disillusion and loss.

I became proof that
no man’s fist could utter
a punch line more humorous
than mine.
For what is a punch line
without a joke?
What is a woman
without a man?
Just wo.
Just wo.

And woebegone, my man appeared
with three hammering knocks.
Before he huffed
and he puffed
and he knocked the door down,
I yanked it open to another world
and smiled acutely
at his scowling face.

I leaned in for our
greeting card hello and
nanosecond kiss,
he turned away,
scowled harder.
His voice was like a growl and
I fell in love again.
“Your hair is in your face.”
I brushed it aside, saw his disgust,
pulled it back into
a scalp-peeling ponytail
and he pulled me outside.

He gripped my arm with
a lover’s touch, I stumbled
alongside him like a fawn
at her mother’s hooves.
We explored foreign land
wordlessly, approached a
child’s dream and trod
on its hope, relentless stomping
like a baby’s tantrum
until he cut me off,
stared down at me.
I could not look him in
the eye.

Stumbling
Tumbling
Falling
What had I done?
He was upset again,
I was floored again,
trembling at his feet,
filth tangling my hair.
How could I keep
messing up?

I deserve this.
I hurt him first.
I am a monster.

Tender, I’m like mercury,
unhealthy but tempting.
He, like battle,
made pain into
something I could
touch.