I can no longer be
the in-between,
watch you play
out the same sad scene,

watch you walk away
and come back
the same day
with a bruised heart
and a marked face,

feel you rest
your tired head
against my chest
as you express
affection for
a violent *****,

then talk to you
while you are
texting him,

or listen as you justify
your own abuse.

I feel guilty because
I want to walk away,
move on from the insane
vein of pain
you spray my way,
as you say
that I wouldn’t understand,

but I have felt
an abuser’s hands.

I do not presume
to mansplain
the layers of
your pain,
so please do not presume
that I do not understand
as much as any other human possibly can.