Healthy Shakes

This is my first attempt at writing a slam poem. It sounds better when heard, than when read, but I thought I would share it with you anyway.

 

Healthy Shakes

I remember the time we stayed in
London,
the moonlight carriage ride through
streets spewing over with happy people,
and we laughed and you fed me
strawberries dipped in chocolate.
Your arms were always so strong
(to think I found that reassuring at first)
and when you placed them gently on my shoulders
on that warm and hazy summer night,
I felt loved I felt protected
I felt I’d met the love of my life
and I would finally be free from
the ties of a childhood misused
abused
so confused
it’s no surprise I clung to the first man
to tell me he loved me without saying,
“Or at least I would,
if only you could lose twenty pounds.”

It didn’t take long for your all-consuming love
to strangle and suffocate every one of
my bones,
though at first, it felt safe,
before long your eyes grew blacker and your mouth became vicious
and your fists they got
heavier,
and I retreated to the corner of the room,
a cowering dog, terrorised by her owner,
waiting for each fresh punishment to fall.
This way we lived, for ten long years—
seven of them spent in matrimonial bliss—
with our game of cat and mouse,
both sticking to our roles so well:
you the hunter, me your prey,
until one day,
when I got away
your stranglehold on me frayed
and I ran and I ran
and I didn’t look back
I got help, patched me up
stitched my seams back together

and now you’re a dot
in the distance, a blot
on my landscape, a mess
I don’t need any more,
no longer my life-drug;
I have healthy shakes and relationships
with people—so gentle—
and you, you have nothing,
not even freedom,
so goodbye, my love,
I am done.