Two days ago
My sister claimed
That you were emotionally abusive,
I didn’t think it was true until last night
When your hand struck out
And,
Gripped my shoulder
And,
You told me I wasn’t following the rules.
I watched the door shut in front of me
And,
My mouth went dry with words I couldn’t speak.

I try not to remember
The good things about you
Anymore.
Because a bottle  
Of cheap *****
Isn’t enough when
I feel like I’m swallowing
The sea.

Instead my mind
Plays back images of your hands slamming against
The punching bag that you kept hung in your basement.
I wonder if you’ve ever pictured
Your fist hitting my face
While you were sweating out your anxieties.
Somehow,
You still had leftover
Anger bottled up
And,
You raged at me.

In February
It felt like my first time
All over again,
Your hands were gentle and,
My heart quaked but
I tried my hardest not to cry.

I had always looked out
At the world with hard fists
And,
Cold eyes, but you touched my heart
On your couch.

78 days later
All we had left in common
was *** and hanging on for dear life
To the scraps of us.
Your knuckles were scraped up
but you still managed
To **** me
While the stereo
Played every track I knew.

I touched your back
Like I used to play piano,
I tried to read the knuckles in your spine
Like brail
And,
Bring us back to
January 27th
When touching you
Was like slow dancing in the rain.