Your words ring like a shotgun blast in my ears.

Echoing and piercing just the same.

The honesty of them penetrating and cold,

taking me down faster than a speeding bullet.

You'd think it dramatic of me, foolish even,

to liken a statement to that of a ****** wound.

Wouldn't you?

But if you'd stood with your feet on that same floor,

the same kitchen floor he'd had you naked, bent over on before.

Maybe then you too wouldn't stand quite as tall,

as he gave you excuses that he was "joking" and that "was all".

Maybe you'd crumble.

Maybe you'd fake your strength like me.

Maybe you'd be smarter and flee.

Regardless of your physical reaction -

I can bet one thing would ring true...

That when it comes to someone who "loves" you?

This isn't something they do.