poetry

how i feel is not a sin

you push me away for who i am
you would rather i life a life of lies
and misery and self-destruction
just to make you happy

you all stand dressed in white
drinking champagne from delicate flutes
your hair is curled neatly
your makeup applied perfectly
you are discussing your husbands
and their fancy jobs
and their large pay check that allows you to buy new shoes.
(and you call yourself a feminist)

the conversation changes to children
oh, the achievements they have made!
they discuss the posh universities
and prestigious job offers
their sons are receiving.
they talk about marriage and husbands
for their daughters.
i see your lip curl and your fingers tighten
on that delicate flute.

i walk down the stairs in my red dress
on my way out.
you shoot a cold look in my direction.
one of your friends asks if i am seeing anyone
if i am engaged to a nice young man.
the look you give me is a warning
tell them what they want to hear
or i will send you back to that place
where they shock you out of sin
i nod and smile but my mouth is too wide
my teeth are too big
my lips are too strained

i break.

i remember the place
where they told me i was a sinner
for who i am
where they publicly shamed me
and denounced me
so that i could be fixed.

i remember you standing there
in your pastel clothes
and your tightly curled hair
your pink lips pressed together.
i remember how you did not flinch
when they told me i was evil.

i scream then
at your posh party
of rich women dressed in white
and their husbands discussing finances
in matching white suits.
i scream that i am not engaged to anyone
i cry that i am not interested in a man
or in any men

i weep as a realisation dawns on me
and i shout that i loved a girl
and it was not evil or impossible
but pure and natural and beautiful

there is silence.

i watch as your grip tightens
and the glass cracks
the flute shatters into a million pieces
your hand stained with blood
and chips of glass
and expensive liquid.

everyone watches me
i am a mess of running mascara
and sloppy red lipstick
and messy blonde hair
and a wrinkled red dress
(that you bought for me. you said it would turn heads. it did.)

i see the hate in your eyes

i remember the love in hers

your anger and disgust and loathing

compared to her kindness and warmth and tenderness.

maybe i was never broken or sinning or evil
maybe you were the monster all along.

alienate me
isolate me
give me over to satan.
teach me to hate myself
for the abomination that i am.

go ahead and try to hurt me
but you cannot change who i am.