Broken Glass

I've loved them their whole lives.

Tonight he said he wasn't sure if he ever loved me.

And so, here I go, swallowing that broken glass, wallowing in it, kneeling in it, rolling around - cobalt, green, amber, clear....shards slicing me in ways only I can see. The way it's always been.

"Terrible mother. Terrible mother!"

It's rings in my head over and over.

"You're a terrible mother!"

I was once told this by a big black cop who had me hog-tied, bleeding on the side of the highway. He leaned over me when nobody was near and sneered, "You're a terrible mother. Stupid bitch!"

That was after I'd been attacked by my boyfriend. I was bleeding. He had slashed my tires. I had tried to tell him what happened - tried to get him to follow my then-boyfriend's car - but he was more worried about my blood and didn't want to get any on him so he hog-tied me.

And my therapist. And the ones before her - the ones from years ago. The ones who were useless. They lied.

I knew they were lying but I went along. Said what they wanted me to say. Swallowed the glass.

So tired of swallowing glass.

How much glass must I swallow?

The price you pay for never saying a word.