Monday, February 15, 2016

Izabela Jeremus- A Poem

Izabela Jeremus is a poet and writer. One of her articles appeared in Voices Magazine published by the University of Hartford. Izabela lives in Massachusetts with her wife, Kim, and their rescue beagle, Face. She enjoys reading everything from literary fiction to true crime and all forms of arts and crafts. Izabela has a degree in psychology, but due to her disabilities is unable to work. You can follow her on Twitter at


Your arm pressed against my throat
Until my vision blackened.
I didn't dare push back
With your hand inside me.
"I love you," you lied.
I was more addicted to you
Than the pills I snorted
To escape you.
Like a moth to a zapping light
I was drawn to your demon eyes -
My death reflected.
I allowed the piercer to punch holes in me
Taking refuge in the pain.
You slid to your knees,
Pretending to care
But wouldn't give her up.
I stayed. I fucked. I begged.
Nothing I did was good enough.
You berated me,
Knife in your hand,
So close to my head,
Then sent me flowers, poems.
You were a nuclear plant
Exploded, spreading your poison.
Our last day together,
I pushed you away.
I touched the Chinese letter on my hip -
Dragon -
It was meant to remind me
To be strong.
And I was.
I pushed you from me,
Turned around and walked away,
Never to be seen again.
Breaking the chains,
I set myself free from your touch.
And the dragon reminds me
To never let anyone hurt me again.

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