What makes you think you can get away with what you did to me?

You ****** him and he ****** you.
You did it behind my back and neither of you had the courage to tell me the truth.

I will never let that moment go for the rest of my life. My intuition is sharper than your poisonous fangs that you seeped deep into his neck.

You're a ******* snake who deserves to burn it's skin in a pit of unforgivable lovers' hearts.

I wake up with a stabbing pain,
I force myself to wake up from this nightmare,
and when I finally look in the mirror...
"Wait, what? How did that happen?"

There's violet and crimson marks on me.
They're encapsulating me,
making me feel like I deserved this,
and I did.

The shrinks in their ivory towers tell you
To not be afraid,
Stand up for yourself,
Show them what you're made of, and to
Never back down.

I'm pinned to the floor,
and my legs are paralyzed.
I was left in a puddle of my own pulpy, ****** mess.

and it's my fault.

His voice echoes in my mind.

"Maybe if you didn't act this way, I wouldn't do this,
You're a terrible person and I feel sorry for the people who think you're not. Nobody loves you. People would throw you out in the street if they knew what you've done."

That was the night that he took everything from me,
He took my freedom,
He took my ability to communicate,
He took everything from me,
And he doesn't know why.

Sometimes, I don't know why he does these things.

Isolation consumes me like cable news telecasters consume the minds of sheep, and everyone is programmed to think and act as if the world is coming to an end.

Everyone acts like a victim.

There's two parts to such an accusation;
Victimization
Survival

But, there's a third part that no one tells you about.
Coping mechanisms

I can't stand up for myself.
"You're worthless."

I can't show them what I'm made of.
"Nobody loves you."

Berating, belittling, and biting me with your words.
It shows more scars on me than your fists.

"Why do you do this to me?"
"You must not care about how I feel."
"Why are your crying? Are you pitying yourself?"
"Have you realized that what you've done is wrong?"
"When will you learn?"

I'm not your child.
I'm not your lover.


Make a safety plan,
Get out while you still can,
Don't blame yourself.

You have every right to react the way you want
When he's not treating you right.

Don't let him gaslight you.


You've been through this before.

Don't let him get to you.

You're better than that.

You

are

a

survivor.

The rules echoed in my ears.

He tells me how restricted I need to be,
In order to be his.

Don't wear perfume to work.
Don't glare at me when you're upset at me.
Don't accuse me of misbehaving and being disrespectful when it's your fault.
You must shave every other day.
You must shower every day.
Don't talk to your friends.
Tell me where you are and if you're going anywhere.
Tell me who you're going to be with.
You must let me look through your phone without questioning me.
You don't listen.
You don't learn.

Don't humiliate me.

I had a dream that I saw you in a hotel room with two other women. I was chasing them down the hallway with my 6 inch stilletos, a knife sharper than my mind, and a heart full of rage.  I welcomed them with a formal greeting before I took their heads, "hello, my name is Delilah. I'm here to **** you. I'm sorry if I'm  sweating profusely. Now, if you wouldn't mind getting on your tartly knees." I kept thinking to myself, as I slowly inserted my mind into theirs, 'I never knew I was capable of doing such things.' And it wasn't until they were finally dead that you were finally gone.

You were the milk to my white oleanders; ever so soft, innocent, and pure and I could easily absorb you through my stems and blossom until I was plucked  from the bouquet the very next day.  Now, instead of your milk, only your stench remains and I can't seem to wash it off no matter how hard I try.  There's no longer that sweet flora and fauna that I once remember. You are now but an awfully sweet memory that remains in my bell jar forever.