Knives glint, then the screaming starts,
blood-red pools across the grass.........
how could she carve me up so viciously
for a song I never even sang?
My goldenrod (exhausted from the wait)
brushed that place with a lover's touch
one last desire still burning,
but it all went wrong................
A flash—then her sudden rage
took its head (oh, veiled woman),
that poor, lust-besotted wand
destined never to gleam........
# Revenge I will not seek revenge— let that be clear from the start. I will not sharpen my tongue into a blade, will not hone my hurt into a weapon. I will not wait in shadows for the moment to strike, will not rehearse my cruelties in the dark rehearsal rooms of sleeplessness. Instead, I will live well. I will tend my garden though the flowers may wilt, will sing though my voice cracks, will love though love has left bruises. I will succeed— not to prove anything to you, but because my life deserves to be more than a monument to your betrayal. I will forget your name the way a river forgets the stone that once blocked its path. I will remember only that I survived you, and that survival is its own kind of victory. This is my revenge: that you will never know how little you matter now.
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