enough.

I’d do kick-boxing, but
there aren’t enough punching
bags in the world
to absorb my rage
when I think of him.

I’d do primal scream
therapy, but
there aren’t enough decibels
in the world to yell
my feelings loud enough
to make them go away.

I’d do hypnosis, but there’s
not enough trance
in the world to make
me feel calm after
the way he treated me,
along with every other girl
he’s ever met.

I’d straight-up punch
him in the face,
if I weren’t
such a pacifist.
he’s lucky
I have yet to learn
Krav Maga. one day
I might know how
to actually
hurt him – without
disabling or permanent
injury of course – I’m not
a monster.

still. whatever
I did,
it would not be
enough.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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