Editor’s note: The following poem submitted to us by Men’s Human Rights Ireland, is published with permission of the author, Shawnda Kettles.
This poem is also available in Spanish.
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We are in a writers group on facebook and come across many different stories, articles and poems.
We thought we’d share this with the world.
I made him remember my name
I made him remember my name.
From the first moment he met me
I made sure that I would find a way
To be a permanent part of his memory.
I wanted him all to myself.
All for myself.
All by myself.
And I was determined to have him.
He told me I was different.
I told him to his own words he should probably listen….And take heed
Because he didn’t know just how true
Those words that he spoke
Would cause his life to almost be choked
And beaten
And threatened
Out of his control.
I made him remember my name.
See, when he met me,
I didn’t appear threatening
To his well being
Or his emotional feelings.
I’m classy with a great smile,
An endearing personality by the mile
And enough charisma to put a person in denial….
About who I really am.
He thought he had the upper hand,
And I let him think it.
That’s the trick to this game,
To let your opponent think they are winning it.
But I quickly lured him in
Little by little
To this deadly web that I spin.
I did everything for him and I never let him forget it.
I controlled all of the money including how he spent it.
I made him remember my name.
I made him believe that I was just a woman
catering to her man
But what I was truly doing was gaining the upper hand.
I gave him love better than he ever received
I fulfilled the physical desires that his body need.
I gained his love.
I gained his trust.
I gained his dependency.
I gained his lust.
And once I had all of that
Then I had all of him.
And I held onto it
But I chipped away at it.
Piece…
By piece…
By piece.
So subtly….
That he didn’t even know I was doing it.
I made him remember my name.
I would build him up extremely high
But break him down twice as deep.
I would tell him that I hated him
And turn around and say I needed him
With the same breath.
I would get angry and destroy his things
I would tell him that he couldn’t be loved by anyone else.
As long as I was happy,
He was safe.
If I was unhappy
He paid for it with his face.
I made sure he always would question if I mean it.
But I beat him so bad I made him think I had the penis.
But what did I care?
Who would believe him?
Who could he turn to?
With whom could he share?
Everyone would dismiss his verbal pleas
Saying he was a man
And I am a vessel that’s weak.
They would tell him to man up
And make him feel shame
But what do I care.
I made him remember my name.
This one got to me straight away
Having suffered domestic abuse myself years ago I thought this poem exactly showed me what domestic abuse can be through the eyes of an abuser,
Too often people ignore male victims because they are bigger and stronger than the females who go out to kill their spirit by a thousand cuts.
