Stitches

I've always been the type to appease

"Yes, Sir," "Yes, please."

When I finally mustered the god-feared right

to allow my voice to escape into the night

the words whispered by

no stronger than a firefly

and just as bright.

But you told me I should have shined like a star

and howled like a bitch.

And just like that

there was sewn a stitch

at the corners of my frown,

holding my lips down.

I've always been the type to forgive.

Your crimes aren't something I like to relive.

But when I finally mustered the god-feared right

to allow my voice to escape into the night

the words blew right by

no stronger than the breeze

and just as warm.

But you told me I should have shot through like a pistol

and conjured like a witch.

And just like that

there was sewn

a stitch

in the middle of my scowl

ready to stay awhile.

I've always been the type to explode-

ripping the stitches you had sewed.

When I finally mustered my god-given right

to allow my voice to ripple into the night

the words screamed by

stronger than a train

and just as unforgiving.

But you told me I should have stormed down

and wrecked like a flood.

And just like that

-blood.

The stitches tore,

ripping and dripping red,

ready to make sure you don't miss

a damn thing I've said.

01/18/2023