Brooms are for Cobwebs

Brooms are for Cobwebs

Words black with venom
hissed through serpent lips,
spiteful
biting
hurtful

Poison sinking in
you’re worthless
you’re unlovable

Cracks wrack your back
the broom handle breaks
relentless
insistent
unceasing

Driving home the point
you’re not wanted
die, damn you!

NO

Busted ribs don’t bate your breath
Words and whippings
won’t squelch your spirit
They harden your resolve
to survive

Morning arrives, bag packed
goodbyes whispered with pleas for silence
and a clean escape
but no tears
in eyes clear with intent and understanding
the unknown awaits
but even death would be better than this


How many solitary miles must be logged
and cold sweat soaked beds laid in
before this toxin is purged
How many lovers will you enfold
in efforts to exorcize these demons
just to leave an empty space
able to accept fulfillment