Pagan Poetry

I was sitting in a big couch. Those leather ones you sink into. He kept asking me what was wrong until I snapped and I told him everything. Absolutely everything. His response was a hug. I shrugged him off because it can't fix anything. And then I snapped. This is when I stopped playing first person and floated off to watch myself. I screamed a big Fuck You to everybody that crowded round to gawk at me. I wanted them to see me. It was a show. He chased after me and I told him his life was a lie and he was a bastard and I hit him so he hit me back. Fist through my face that I could really feel. There was a crunch and a gasp and I thought you never see women getting punched in the face. There are millions of films and scenes with men in fights and their nose disfigured but it's too horrible to show a woman in the same position. It's unseemly. Essentially you've ruined their looks and hey what's a girl with an ugly face? Desperate. So I laughed. "You fucking hit me." And the crowd told me I had to start over, this wasn't right. I shouldn't be laughing. A man had hit me. He should be killed. Instead he asked me to marry him since I was already wearing the dress. And I was. White corset with a huge skirt ballooning out from my hips like a hooker trapped in a meringue. Pavlova whore! I told him not to be silly. There was blood on the dress and I wasn't going to marry a man who hit me. He took me to the hospital and they asked if there had been any trauma to my face and I laughed so hard I woke up.