Tori's Liberation

It used to be so easy to tap my bitter sweet sap.

“Hold out your hand”, you’d tell me and like a well trained dog I would.

You whip my hands with a switch;

You tell me it’s myrtle but it stings like Judas.

When you’re done bleeding me, you coat my hands in shea butter and bandage them tightly.

“It’s for your own good”- “ I did it because I love you”, you tell me.

But I slip sage under my bandages so I don’t forget what you’ve done.

If only I knew. And then;  if only you knew. 

I remember.

I remember the sweet sap dripping from my bitter hands; 

I remember the way I begged you to stop but was too afraid to withdraw them.

I remember your wicked smile as you delighted in my pain.

And then, all together, I remembered;

This isn’t love; 

And it never was.

I won’t bleed for you anymore. 

My switch whipped hands aren’t soft and supple;

They’ve calloused over.