This is Giving Up


They say stones can’t yield blood.

But there’s a rock where your heart should be

And I can hear it beating,

All the while you chase notoriety like a school boy crushing.

Like a school girls loving proved the worth of you,

While your strumpet puppets

Speak ill

Of a decade of good will and what I thought was mutual loving

Between us

Don’t come home

Your sons won’t miss you

Like they haven’t become accustomed

To you as a novelty

And the womb that grew them

Being the hand that guides them into manhood

While you whore your resources for the affections

Of halfwits as empty and insecure as you are

But let me ask you

Who do you run home to?

Who has been your safe port,

When neither strumpet or friend has had you?

What has stood steadfast through the shit storms of your own making,

Despite you?

Who lay for you? Body and soul

Giving all the shit you refused to reciprocate?

But I thank you,

For making me proficient in the art of enjoying my own company.

Don’t come home

To your headstone pillow

Don’t barge your way into a home you had no part in the making

To a wife you have no right to the taking

The kids that no longer need your kisses

Go lie with your bitches

You, who would fancy yourself king

Despite only being consort to a queen.

©Michelle Toussaint, all rights reserved.


About Michelle Toussaint

Michelle Toussaint is an Antiguan who has amassed an Associate Degree in Science Education as well as a Diploma in Forensic Science. As such, she Teaches Science in the classroom as well as at home, where she co-leads The Tribe. A merry band comprising her Husband-The Chief, herself-The Priestess, and her three precocious children- the tribesmen. When she isn’t mothering, teaching, being a fangirl or feeding her chocolate addiction. She writes two blogs. Random_Michelle and Death By Expectations. View all posts by Michelle Toussaint

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