He thought he knew me
Put me on a pedestal so then he conveniently
Didn’t have to live up to it
Mistaking my kindness for softness.
My humility for weakness.
He knew the Madonna,
The maiden,
The damsel,
Even the vixen
But he didn’t know the
whore, the dangerous woman,
Or the freak.
He knew the girl next door,
The best friend,
The martyr,
But he didn’t know the vibora,
The woman scorned,
Or the ice queen.
He was too busy trying to divert me
From all his personas,
He didn’t even see the persona right in
Front of him.
He never bothered to look within,
To see all the women menacing, raging inside of me,
Inching to get out.
He never took the time
To know and relish me in my multidimensionality.
He knew how I could heal,
How I could turn something gold upon touch,
But he didn’t know how hotblooded I could
Scorch earth or run hell.
He didn’t know the depths of a woman’s fury,
The caverns of her pride-
Or how quickly I could demote him from number one
To persona non grata.
And yeah, maybe I got a sick kick out of it
introducing and then leaving him
With the kind of bitch I can be.