“Right,” He said, eyes roving over her with interest, “What can you bring to the marriage?”
She looked at him as if he were the only man in the room; to her, he was the very oxygen she needed in order to survive, “I will love you with every fibre of my being. Until I die, everything that I am will be yours.”
He nodded slowly, “Right… erm, but can you iron a straight pleat in formal trousers? It’s really an essential skill in a woman, you know?”
How I wish I could find you;
to somehow show you,
that I became all the things
that you told me,
I would never be.
I lay down my darkness.
When it calls,
I turn my back;
refuse the siren call of my escape.
in your eyes,
I see the only light that shines kindly on my
There is a type of man
with a heart as grey,
and dreary as a damp winter’s day,
who will compel you to
dim your light;
monochrome your kaleidoscope of colours,
in order to feel like a real man.
This is not Love.
No matter how it is dressed up.
He is a fatal disease that will
from the inside out,
until the only thing left of you is a
A ghostly imprint of the
you were created to be.
Run from him.
Do not look back.
You are so much more.
– Things we must teach our daughters.
What happens to a woman
between being born as
and spending the rest of her life
peeling away the layers of her body,
and eviscerating her soul
in order to be considered