February 8, 2008
By Kat Meade, Camp Lejeune, NC

They’re gone.
I figure I can
be strong.
I stand tall,
kept my anger at bay—
guarded by my dignity—
and take the first step.
It’s painful.

They’re gone.
I think I can
be strong.
Am I right,
or am I wrong?
(Please let it be
the former.)

I can’t keep the
tears away now.
It’s easier when
I’m with others—
but when I’m alone,
it’s murder.
But I have my pride,
and I’m takin’ it
for a ride.
I won’t let them see
me break…
I won’t let them see
me ache…
I won’t.

I can sense the ax
above my head.
I can feel the hands
around my throat.
I can hear my stomach
cry in pain.
I can see them
move on without me.
I can’t speak the words,
I want to speak
so bad…
because their cost,
is so great…
and I’m poor.

Was it
trés worth it,
just to prove my point?
Was it worth the pain?
Was it worth all this?
I love roller coasters,
but this is ridiculous!
(The loop-di-loops,
the corkscrews.
The ups and downs,
I now do.)
So was it
trés worth it,
just to prove my point?

Of course,
sorry isn’t good enough.
And eavesdroppers,
don’t help matters.
So now
they’re gone.
And I’m doubled over—
’cus I just took a punch—
from the realization.
I used to live by,
‘big girls never cry,’
but forget that.
That was before…

They’re gone.
I thought I could
be strong—
and move on—
but I was

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