I could see the white flag begging to fly, the sadness pushed out from my face like a foreign body pushes its way to the surface.
I could see the loneliness that was once so well hidden, pristine clear as it buried deeper in the wrinkles that have begun to form on my once smooth skin; so different to the image before me.
A fool could notice though, the cracks in my smile. The years I had to practice; that fake smile was a sick talent, one not taught but easily learnt.
The clothes that I was once forced to wear sit on my lonely shell of a body, they didn’t belong there.
His figure, under his own hand, forced into a sad image of having too much control over me, causing his skin to fall pale and drape uncomfortably from his tired, beaten bones.
The place of a small child is not under the hd of a man, it is to sway gently in their arms in total peace. But there was a monster hidden under his crooked smile, which looked so perfect in the family photograph.
“Smile for the camera please”