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