i know i shouldn’t write a few lines 

about when he made me so mad i

repeatedly punched a wall.

i know it shouldn’t have felt so good

as i winced through the pain, 

all the while smiling as i did it again and

again.

i know i shouldn’t have felt so

POWERFUL

as i stood there focusing on the pain and

anger.

i know i shouldn’t text a friend 

asking him how to properly throw a punch.

i know i shouldn’t have done that as i sit and 

watch the inflammation die down.

i don’t want anyone to know,

so i’m good at hiding it.

i know i shouldn’t want to do it again as i sit with

an ice pack on the reddish-purple bruising.

the cold feels good.

i feel good.

strong, powerful, free.

i know i shouldn’t want to do it again as i wrap

my hands with what look like mini scrunchies.

i’ve never thrown an actual punch in my life.

just because i know i shouldn’t do it again,

that doesn’t mean i 

won’t.