Vile words, venomous tones
vibrated around me, occasionally penetrating
through me, until I said to myself –
“Any and all energy directed at and meant to harm me,
transmutes into creative energy.”

My field began to expand, as my fingers typed, eyes wide
words like bullets suspended in time,
as the silver thread atop my head
tugged with enough tension to form a net,
while my soles grew roots.

I watched as you began to burn off identities formed of mold,
made up of shame from the gaze of abandonment.
I could not absorb the viscous poison meant for three,
without it killing me or entering a trance of transmutation.

I caught each word like a fly in a web, devouring them,
weaving new words as they poured without edit.
Alchemizing your vitriol, with no recollection of
what was written, while frozen in fear.

Posting them like a ritual to make it stop,
unable to revisit the words woven,
until I am safe to process
the way it felt in my body to write them
while you stood in the doorway
forcing in the only promise ever made,
a sadist’s ode dedicated to cause the same suffering that you feel like it would somehow keep you safe.

But I imagine losing the love you were given, hurts more than giving it without return.