Confessions: The Hurtful

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Confessions: The Hurtful
By: Emily Rudgers

--SEPARATOR--

There you stand in your compassionate manner
Desperately coaxing me to tell you what troubles me
Soothing me with words to never fear, you will always love me

I stumble with false starts, to find the words I masterfully planned
Words that abandoned me to avoid the conversation just as I have
With deep breath, I recall the number of times I have tried to tell you

The number of times you have given me that look in hopes this would be the time
A look that I will never receive the same way from you again
A look that I wish I could preserve through to the end of time

With a sharp intake of air, I do the impossible
I blurt the words that come to mind in all of their glorified disarray
I see it in your eyes and sudden stop in breath that you understand

In the chaos of words the point came across
I forget to breath, my mouth runs dry, and my insides decide to twirl
Your compassionate face goes to that of a poker face

My heart starts pounding causing my head to swim
I want to fix this somehow. I try to explain
My vocabulary serving little value to explain complex emotions

As my voice washes over you, I see the poker face cracking
With hope that I am helping I push on with the end all phrase
“I’m sorry”

At this the poker face is destroyed, replaced by that reserved for evils
You lash out in retaliation in what I have said
I do what is needed of me. I take it, all of it
The curses, the threats, the hatred, the fear, the confusion, and the regret
Every bit of it I endure showing no expression

My insides have all but been heaved out
My mouth a desert and my heart beating so fast it is a monotone
But my face shows nothing

My heart and mind feeling wrung out and stomped on
But my face shows nothing

My eyes burn with the desire to cry
A single tear falls, betraying my facade
At sight of the tear you burst into sheer outrage

I endure more of your punishment and torture
More tears fall but my face still portrays nothing

After an eternity, you run out of steam.
Collecting your breath for another round
I prepare for the assault but it does not come

You just glare directly at my eyes
With a single twinge in my eye expression
Everything changes, you realize just how far you went
Not knowing what to do you walk away without a backwards glance

Here I stand alone and broken but with a treasure
I am not afraid
You did your worst and I am still standing



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This story is 476 words long.

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Beverly Taff's picture

That's the one.

That's the line, the last one.

You did your worst but I am still standing.

Even like a broken city wall or storm struck oak, I am still standing.

I offer no resistance, no defence, no threat; I am just here, inert and passive but still here; - here as a reminder to you that I AM STILL STANDING!!!

And you are gone.

That line says it all.

Thank you Emily. 64 years of thank you.

Beverly.

Growing old disgracefully.

At an LGBT Excellence function with the wedding cake we cannot have.

Bev, unable to eat her cake (yet)!.jpeg

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