cruelty

Cruelty held me like the gentlest cradle, all plush hands and answered prayers. Cruelty held the back of my head from cracking open when the tenderness I reached for shoved me before fleeing into the night. Tenderness never served me. It didn’t serve me because it was never mine. I patched up every leak on the splintered boat god gave me when I asked him for a helping hand. When these onerous oceans caught up with me. O’ careless god, your benign hand a faux promise. Benevolence betrayed me but brutality became a balm. Became my betrothed. Became bigger, better than softness ever was. I have love in me for the trusting hands of violence. Hands that held my own when they trembled from the depravity of a peace I never found. Hands that saved me where nothing soft ever could. Yes, I confess—I am loyal to that ravaging beast that should’ve devoured me but breastfed me instead. With cruelty this generous, this remedial, how could I ever dream of tenderness again?