I want to be the kind of woman that you have to swallow the lump in your throat before you can even speak to. I want to make you understand that I am precious and I am hellfire and I am done taking shit from anyone.

I want you to see nothing except steel and sharp edges instead of tears and soft bruises. I want you to scream at the thought of me slamming the door behind me. I want to trade bodies, I want to trade nerves, I want to trade hearts. You can feel the tenderness of this skin for a while. You can ache with the bruises of old memories and the scars of old battles and the fragility of these weary bones.

I want to be the one toying with power plays, laying down the law. I want to be the one zipping up the suitcase instead of unraveling on the floor.