by Renee Cronley
Tonight, your locked doors are about as useful as mine were that night you came to me. In my heart I know the scent of the gasoline I’m painting your house with inspires the same fear in you as the chloroform did in me.
A restraining order is not justice.
I don’t have to live with you inside me anymore. That was like being dead.
When I strike the match, I come back to life. With a flick of my wrist, your hold on me goes ablaze and brings light to the darkness you forced on me.
Now I’m free.
Renee Cronley is a poet, writer, and nurse from Brandon, Manitoba. She studied Psychology and English at Brandon University, and Nursing at Assiniboine Community College. Her work has appeared in Love Letters to Poe, NewMyths.com, The Gateway Review, and is forthcoming in Black Hare Press.