This poem deals with emotional and physical abuse. It's a work in progress, as all of my poems are.
No pulls have taken me from you,
no other lovers, no soul poets spewing
pretty words have pulled me away.
Blame our demise on pushes
like the ones that have sent me
crashing into our bedroom walls.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I cried-- over and over and over--
as though I had pushed a stranger
into the path of a speeding car.
Blame it on the pushes that have crushed
my face into downy pillows, smothering
I love you out of our atmosphere.
Or, place the blame on my favorite chair,
the one I had to push against the door
a dozen times to keep you out,
just to keep me safe.
No, don't conjure any pulls to blame.
Blame it on the pushes that have pulled
me away from you.