That knife

An emptiness never filled, 

We learn to take every broken promise, 

Every missed birthday, 

Every lone night without cause, 

Every misunderstood teenager, 

Every tragedy, 

Every one of those forgotten apologies to the words that came to haunt you when your eyes drifted off into a deep sleep, 

and lock them away in a small box, tossing the key into a deep sea of every lie and every slurred word that came from the mouth of the man you loved.

To lock them away in a basilica of broken bones that lie under the bruised skin that holds you,

To curve the world and create your own masterpiece of shattered glass from the late nights he had come home just to smash the glass you had set out for dinner. 

That emptiness was what filled you, 

What drove you to take the knife from your back and stab the hurt out of your soul. 

That very knife held what now became you as a person. 

A woman with a cause. 

A woman with strength.