It’s like a slammed door to the face.
The echo of the pain isn’t the blood trickling down
from a broken nose.
It’s the treatment, both in action and in thought

That I am not enough to be dealt with
face to face,
and berates my identity, eroding my worth.

Strangers would be given more consideration,
acknowledged with superficial pleasantries.

But my long-standing relationship is cast away,
disgracing me in humiliating

Each slight becomes magnified, like white-hot
light burning into my chest,
And I feel like Hester Prynne,

forever to be treated as less than human
less than a person.

So, I don’t exist anymore unless I can muster
enough energy to rail against my sentence,
and that isn’t me…

it’s the pain of being shut out into a world of

1:50 am
20 November 2013