Don’t You Dare Call Me Strong

Don’t You Dare Call Me Strong

Don’t you dare call me strong

like it’s a medal

like it’s a compliment

like it didn’t come with blood on the tiles

and nights where I screamed into pillows

soaked with the names of people

who only ever stayed long enough

to take what I didn’t have to give

Don’t say I’m a fighter

as if I signed up for the war

as if I didn’t beg

quietly

on my knees

in rooms where the walls are too thin

to hold all my secrets

where bruises wore perfume

and I still made dinner

You think I’m whole

because I laugh now

but I built that smile from broken glass

stitched my own voice back into place

after it was ripped from me

word by word

until silence became second skin

I am not proud of surviving

I am tired of it

Do you know what it costs

to carry grief in your spine

to be too much woman for comfort

too much truth for your softness

too loud for your peace

too real for your lie

Call me anything

but strong

Call me

undone

furious

divine

call me by the names

names they never let me keep

But don’t stand there

with your clean hands

and call this strength

This

is survival

and survival is a feral thing

with cracked lips

and hungry bones

and no patience

for pity