Getting Gone

His fists. Her wrists.

She wonders if the $304 secret
-ed in the flour jar is enough, if
it will get her far enough away
to stop running.

She’ll pawn the ring

and finally call her mama, pack
a suitcase of her favorite things
and be that bird who knows
how to sing outside its cage.

This isn’t love

anymore, if it ever was, and all
the tempting reasons to stay have
threaded themselves thin,
negotiated only regret and pain.

She sees the light

and holds the fight within
her scars, wishes on wiser
firefly stars and a tintype

Is it too soon?

She checks the weather report
and watches for warning signs
of his waking. He’s taken
too much of her already, and

she’s ready to breathe again.

Poetic Asides April PAD Challenge, day 21. This is the one with all the prompts. 

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2 Responses to Getting Gone

  1. ash says:

    This is brilliant and beautiful, De. I’m so happy to know, without a doubt, that she gets away to a beautiful place, and arms that genuinely love and know how to hold her [broken] {heart}.

    “This isn’t love

    That is all she needed to know.

  2. Kir Piccini says:

    She deserves to breathe again.. In a safe, happy place.

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