Polite Society

For a woman scorned.

If I’m being honest
And I hate being honest
I’m angry.

I know
It’s not becoming
Of a lady such as I
To be angry out loud
To give voice to my rage
To feel something
That cannot be
Folded up
And tied with a bow
And pushed aside

But it’s true
I’m angry
Angry with them
Angry with myself
Angry with the world

And I know
It’s not becoming
Of a lady such as I
To bask in rage
To allow the world
To feel my wrath
To fan the flame
Rather than put it out
Hell, to light the fire myself

Polite society
And I hate polite society
Would frown

For it is not graceful
Nor is it beautiful
Nor is it ladylike
To hold space for fury

A woman scorned
Should be silent
A woman scorned
Should be locked away
Out of sight
And most certainly out of mind

For a lady 
Does not hurt in public
She does not scream
Nor does she cry
She is graceful
And beautiful
And small enough
To fit into
A man’s world.