blues for sister someone

Her eyes are bloodshot marbles streaming tears of twenty, hard years, worn deep into the crevices of her face, a violation of a protective order and a possible stint in Framingham with the"dykes". whirring around her head like a cyclone. I remember a similar face, staring at me, shiny and red, like the knife he pulled out of his pocket and a police officer who mocked it, or the smell of her expensive perfume when she ran at me, like a fireball from hell, the Fraud behind her, now awaiting extradition in county jail. I suppose I should sigh a breath of relief and I do, but it's from the chest, wondering if yet another war has been won from fighting, if to defend is to be attacked, but to do nothing is to die a slow death, and so it goes, that i will wander until wherever becomes my meantime, or until some impending threat disguised as the universe redirects me.. to where i'm really supposed to be which is not just someone's sister or someone's daughter or someone's lover, banging at the walls of my own infinite potentiality, sitting in the same coffee shop, wondering where all the years went and why I sold myself down the river because I was too afraid to be my own person.