i was once velvet,
soft, placid, you could
mold it
to any shape or form.

fabulous, for you,
not so much for me.

velvet has no spine,
no personality, it is a toy,
not much more

though you likely saw it as
teaching, an education,
you know
that’s what they called
war too –

soft cuddly bunny,
timid, cute, lovable
because it does not bite,
eats out of you hand,
but it
dies or lives
at the whim of an owner
turned predator.

it was the first splash of purple,
those bruises, red, fiery torment,
grovel, fall in line, behave,
submit or – and i would never
win

cause velvet bunnies don’t retort,
scratch, answer back, hiss, spit,
bite.

if they do, the knife comes out.

tattered velvet, ribbons come undone,
i could become that,
behave!

behave i did while brooding,
a smile on my face: it’s what you want
and i did try other paths, none worked
better for me, endure

till growls came,
a bunny outgrows the body,
velvet develops bone, iron,
menacing, a monster rabbit that likes
meat.

you wave a carrot, i grab,
no pats on head,
you try to return the bunny
back from velvet,
but the trick fails this time round.

you’re coming at me,
you think i don’t see it,
i do.

you’re shadowing,
mirroring, becoming
my other half.

you need me,
you say,
i don’t, i say
and the negotiation stalls

till you come again
from another angle,

see it your way,
see it my way,
huh? it is a foreign word,
my way

cause I’ve always been invisible,
been an add on, a possession,
a tribute, a subsidiary,
a side kick –

you press on, i hit back,
velvet iron
no longer tame, no longer mute,
no longer deaf, no longer cute
you’ve become me, you tell me,
sneering:

my other half eh?
i saw why i rejected you,
we’re nothing alike
for i do not tear out velvet
nor cook little bunnies. but
i think you would never
understand what that means.