Pomegranate

© 2008 Charlene Evans AKA Chiccy Baritone

I was drawn to men from the south…or more so the stereotype of the southern gentleman…hard working, family oriented, survivors and best of all love they mommas…cause usually that was an indication that they were going to love you just as much. So I thought. I was blinded to chivalry and a compliment, conversation and quick counterfeit commitments. I never consulted my mind, or my soul and definitely not my spirit. I gave him totally control. He was like a pomegranate…sweet and bitter…

He told me everything I needed to hear and his control over me was cute, letting everyone know that if there was an outing with the girls I couldn’t go and if I made eye contact with anyone except for him, that will be my last time and he watched every dollar and dime I spent. Didn’t know he had the passwords to email and online bank accounts. He was my pomegranate…sweet but bitter. It wasn’t that bad at least to me but everyone outside of me was worried about my life and my safety, I had a man that loved every ounce of my being and an occasional slap or punch to the face was probably my fault for challenging him since he was the “bread winner” of the family…my hard working, family oriented, survivor and best of all a man that loved his momma and me even in my many mistakes and inconsistencies of not doing what he told me to do quickly. I brought this treatment on myself but why is it that he is hitting me and calling that love and saying that there is no one else?

Staying out late, calling me multiple times at work and showing up on my lunch break, timing my route home and interrogating me when I’m minutes late? The bruises on my heart are bigger than the bruise on my face, make-up covered up the marks but in my soul I can’t erase the images of my man jumping me in the middle of the day and the middle of the night. I can’t stop him now and all hope feels like its gone what more can I say…my pomegranate is more bitter than sweet knocking out all of my front teeth, depleting all of my monetary funds and stripping me from my confidence and dignity.

But what he didn’t know was that there is a God inside of me that proclaim me as the head and not the tail, above and not beneath the first and not the last. Its not that Pomegranates are bad you see, but my choice of Pomegranate was more bitter than sweet.

Choose wisely

© 2008 Charlene Evans AKA Chiccy Baritone