He scribbled a prophecy into my skin with an ice-cold blade Marking me to his fellow predators As easy prey He believed that it was “a little girls job to please a man, like him”
He decorated me in pretty clothes and jewelry Walking me around to show off his sparkly new object One day he asked for something in return As he’d given so much already without asking And almost completely overnight the pretty decorations I wore with such esteem Became the bumps and the bruises They made me feel secure about my place in his life, and mine He believed that “it was better for everyone when he got what he wanted, especially me”
He told me I was grown-up for my age Playing house felt so surreal Running errands and planning dinners Having my own nuclear prison to rot away in was so appealing One with gorgeous photos hung on a wall decorated also with drywall patches He left me with a permanent reminder The imperfectly circular shape of a fire poker end In one of his favorite thumb holds He believed that “thank you was all I should be screaming, for all the work that he’s put into me”
He used to treat me like I didn’t exist Like a burden to him in every situation I was better seen not heard I absolutely had to be doped up to be interesting to him I once told someone he was hitting me and he adamantly held the position That I begged him to do it The worst part was that I very well may have He used to get me so drunk I couldn’t see, or feel, right He believed that “I would never find someone who’d love me like he did, no one could”
He carefully pretended to rescue me From the trap I had lain out just for myself He crept his way into the foreground of my life With a sick plan And while I had known that his intentions were less than honest I couldn’t place my finger on anything particularly that I distrusted His begging was painful to my ears But he reminded me of all the men before him In the pathetic way that he told me he desperately needed me, Like the sun needed the sky Then acted like he never wanted me to begin with He believed that I’d never leave him.
He believed that I was the pièce de résistance of his cynical brainwashing trials When in reality I had been set up for failure See from the very, very, beginning I had been chasing that first hit of validation