Angry Woman

I am an angry woman,
not pretty angry,
not cute angry,
but dragon hungry angry,
lipstick smeared
all over my face angry,
twilight dying angry,
box cutter to my skin angry,
skin wailing, burning angry,
when I said no
and you cried and said,
“Don’t you love me anymore,” angry.

I could eat a whole house
snarling angry,
white kitchen
dripping my blood down its walls angry,
covering the pink dishes with spit angry,
won’t give him another
chance to form a snake
in my mouth angry.
I want too much
but am never enough angry,
throwing up teacups
and train tracks angry,
hands shaking
so hard I can’t hold
a cigarette angry,
not enough money
to fill my gas tank angry,
never am under a boy
who gives a shit angry,
and I’m always a second choice angry,
flowers are not silky anymore angry,
I want my teeth
to make your skin bleed angry,
He says, “I won’t hurt you again,
I promise”
but you open me up
like surgery anyway angry,
cut all my hair off
in the middle of the night angry,
check myself into
a psych ward
for suicidal intent but actually
for anger, angry,
pill popping angel angry,
can’t look in the mirror
for all I find is a monster there angry,
sleeping under my bed again angry.

Never believe that love
is possible again angry,
headache sunrise angry,
my chest feels like
a heart attack every morning angry,
and you won’t read this poem angry,
whole bottle of wine
drunk in the shower angry,
punch through glass ceilings angry.
Manic blur angry.

I am angry
that black men and women
are dying
but don’t even have
names in their gravestones angry,
that there are more rape stories
than sunrises angry.
I am angry for your pain,
I am angry for mine,
and there’s nothing
I can say
that will heal your grief angry.


Photo Credit: daathi2 Flickr via Compfight cc

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