Thank you for the lovely birthday wishes, be they here or on social media. I truly appreciate each one of them. I also subconsciously knew I’d need them.

After all that I’ve been through, she had the nerve to send me a birthday card. I opened the Informed Delivery email on the morning of my birthday to see the photocopy of the envelope. She used her best handwriting and addressed it using my full name. I was immediately frightened, just like when I was a child. Then I was angry. How dare she impede upon my special day! But of course she would. That’s what her type always does. Everything is about them. In my depression days I fell for that shit.

But I’m not depressed anymore. I donned my cloak of invulnerability and reminded myself that she has no power over me. When the afternoon post came, I took a pen with me to the box, marked the envelope Return to Sender, pulled up the flag and left it there.

Today I wrote this.

.

The Cycle of Violence


She used to say
no one would ever love me.
At last I'd broken away,
but she couldn't leave things be.

A solitary card
in the Wednesday post.
Do I read or disregard?
Stew awhile or offer riposte?

The cycle of violence
begins with a honeymoon.
She'll say I imagined fraudulence.
Before? I would soon 
succumb to my innate
desire to hope this time she really loves me. 
But tension quickly escalates.
Eggshells appear beneath my feet.
She'll attack out of spite.
Upon my fear and hurt she eats
to feed her insatiable appetite.

Broken in spirit, I'd limp away
to the nearest corner to lick my wounds
and dread that approaching day
when we begin another round. 

Today I don't have to play the game, 
I can love myself and treat myself tender.
The card departed as it came
after was marked, "Return to Sender."