the color red is said to be romantic,
but it is not romantic when it is coming from the body of your love.
blood is not a sign of forever,
bandages are not meant to be
stickers trying to hold a relationship together,
bandaids cannot heal bullet wounds,
and love cannot heal a broken jaw,
a jaw that was broken in the name of love,
love cannot heal bruises down my side,
a healthy relationship is not meant to be black and blue.
your hands caress my face,
but sometimes I can’t tell if it’s an open palm
or a balled fist against but cheek.
“I love you” can melt into “I love you, but another girl more”,
I am unable to tell whether our love is sinking
through poorly timed texts on your phone,
or swimming through the blood I shed
when you tell me not to leave you,
you say the shouting is because you love me,
the cursing,
the drinking,
the way you can throw punches better than you can throw a baseball,
but love is not meant to be black and blue.
and my crimson blood is not a blood sacrifice to your demons,
this love is parasitic.
you take my flesh, take my courage, my pride,
but I will not let you take my life, so try to threaten me not to go,
but I have to leave you.
because I love you.
love is not meant to be red, black, or blue,
love is meant to be white.
clean as the rubbing alcohol that disinfected my fist-inflicted wounds.
love doesn’t validate violence.
love is pure.