If I could tell you my most secret thoughts,
could I trade them in for the things once bought?
If I could tell you about the price I’ve paid,
the debts incurred because I stayed.
The sleepless nights, the endless hours,
spent dangling under your hypnotic power.
If I could tell you about the constant suffering,
the excuses made, a sad attempt at buffering.
If I could tell you… about your hurtful words,
flung thoughtlessly, outrageous and absurd
If I could tell you all of these things,
would it make a difference, or more heartache bring?
By Sylvia Porter-Hall