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.