Self Defense

I told the jury

it was self-defense

& that he was the devil incarnate,

the kind of man who steals your heart

then locks it in a trunk in his attic,

who drowns his troubles with a dozen pints

and finds solace between your legs.

In his eyes you would have seen

the wrath of hellfire itself,

and these marks on my collarbone you see

were where he sank his razor teeth.

By the time I saw him

for the creature that he was,

he’d planted his spawn inside of me.

Had me in a chokehold of matrimony,

enclosed in a prison of my own making—

of false security, of familiarity, of maternal responsibility.

I hardened my shell, suffered his vices,

endured a lifetime of sleepless nights,

but no wall was thick enough

no one could be strong enough.

For that day he snapped,

summoned the demons I always knew he had

and he left me—

no choice.

It was self-defense.

It was.

It was.

Flash Issue 12