All the women are done.

All the women are done
Done smiling through the hurt
Done gracing the disgraceful
Done adorning your eyes.
Done with the closets
The closets where we hide to shed bitter tears into shame filled pillow cases.
The closets where our self loathing hangs on display.
And, the closets where the numbers hide
On pieces of paper
On your phones
In your pockets
Else, lining up in your brains.
The same brains that forget milk and diapers and garbage bags.
The women are now accepting
Forgive-me-nots.
Keep your patronizing chocolates and numbing wine.

All the women are loud now.
"Shush!" no more.
The women are loud
By necessity.
The women are loud from all the fear.
The women are loud from all the years of
Shoving down their personhood.
Years of invasion
Invasion of personal space
Invasion of dignity
Invasion of self regulation
Invasion of uterus, of work and of thought.
Invasion even of the right to protest.

The women are done.
They are done, my man.
Start the apologies and the bribes because, buddy...
When you next look at them,
The women will be done.
You may be done too.