You come to me
from miles away,
with tears and congestion
interrupting our
our cellphone connection.

You open the line
with your confession,
expecting me to consecrate
the mistakes you commemorate
as we spend hours commiserating
the vile man you should hate.

You cry that you are afraid
you will never be loved that way,
like the man who drugged and abused you,
the one who put you through hell.

You tell me that, that predator
loves more than anyone
whilst admitting all of
the horrible **** he has done.

You break my heart
into shattered splinters
of self-doubt and recrimination
wondering why you struggle to maintain
a relationship with a man
who causes you so much pain
while I just want to take care of you.