she felt nothing, she felt
everything,
she felt the ever present emptiness
slowly gnawing
clawing at her insides, whispering the
relief that could come from succumbing
to its comforting abuse
the caress of an icy blade against
the frantic veins on her neck
that raise themselves every time
she breathes
and her chest rises, only to fall
after all she'd fought against,
after all that she fought for
the blurring of her vision was the last
thing she remembered about him
she wanted nothing to do with his seductive charm
but he was already a part of her, she
brought him every where she went
he used to leave handprints in deep purple paint
around her neck
now, he dug his fingers into her
subconscious, leaching,
bleeding her of her potential
she could feel him, and she feared his reappearance daily
she waited for him
to leave a bouquet of dead roses on her doorstep,
to draw the red morning dew from her wine colored lips
to leave a trail of blackened marks on her hips
to tenderly wipe the tears from the eyes that he made swell
she spent more time trying to convince herself she was well
than she spent outside
most days
she lived through a haze,
and when his ways would alter
after he kneeled at the altar,
she would hold on to those brief moments
so when the honeymoon was over,
she could hold up the frozen and broken
memories of him sober