Poetry of Stephanie Bennett Henry

The Knife

The person who stabbed you in the back is the one telling everyone they never did and you are just crazy, but don’t forget the one who held the knife is smearing blood on whoever will listen, because their hands feel clean that way. So they keep telling people to make it look like they would never touch a knife, rip a soul, be a liar. Most people don’t like to admit that, you know. That they broke someone and then threw them away, moved on to the next, and the next and the next. Those are the ones who will constantly be stating their case, reversing the pain, turning the tables. Those are the ones who feel so guilty that they act like they never held the knife at all. So it must’ve been you. And they make themselves the victim. Well so be it. But your blood will always stain their hands. That’s why they feel too guilty to lay it to rest. That’s why they keep the conversation going… to make sure you still bleed.

And all those whispers feel like the times he touched you, the time he stopped, and the time he discarded you and got someone new to spin the lies to.

And you’re either going to bleed out or walk away and forget they exist. Choose wisely. ✌🏻


1 thought on “The Knife”

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