I used to see the world
in shades of black and blue.
Like the imprint of hands,
like the image of my bruised skin.

The flashes of pain,
blindingly white
behind my eyelids,
shut tight.

I shut my eyes as tightly
as you gripped my wrist.
Trying to block out the pain,
as you tugged me along.

My eyes were still ******* shut
when you slammed my head against
the picture frame, cracking
in tandem with my broken heart.

I remember hot breath on my neck,
whispering.
"You're mine" is supposed to be endearing,
right?

You love me
you love me
you loved me,
right?