Like an Ikea shelf
She dismantled him
There were screws left
Who cares
She shrugged
Women can be abusers too
Get over it
Trembling the boards fell down
Every time she incomprehensibly panted down the phone
Threw up words like bile that won’t stay in
Projectile vomiting of hatred
Like an Ikea shelf
He would tremble
Dissociate
Disconnect
To cope
His sin? You ask
Was not to obey the psychopath
Not play the game any longer
Making her meaningless in his life
She can’t abide
Not winning
Not playing
Not cheating
Not lying
She needs to fucking win
She cheated with three different guys
Just because she could
She abused until there were witnesses
Then she ran
She span
She twisted
She warped
She threw up more bile
It’s all pointless
She is spinning
A perpetuate motion machine
Without hope to win
Over the one thing she ought to win over
Her inner demons
Abused Men
Published
Poetry by Nathalie 