At first his hand prints were soft
Touching me gently, slowly and softly
Then his ego got fed
They became hard
Found strength to swing
My face the target
Swinging and swinging
He hit with a passion
I was his lover and his target
I forgave and he reloaded
Bullets in hands
Shot and my heart he destroyed
My inside pain became seen by many
Bruises and bumps, cut lips and black eyes
They asked why I never left
I told them he took something from me
He took my heart and left me feeling empty
To fill that void I replaced his love with my pain
Some called him an abuser
I called him my lover
To me it was all the same
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 7:57 PM UTC
At first his hand prints were soft
Touching me gently, slowly and softly
Then his ego got fed
They became hard
Found strength to swing
My face the target
Swinging and swinging
He hit with a passion
I was his lover and his target
I forgave and he reloaded
Bullets in hands
Shot and my heart he destroyed
My inside pain became seen by many
Bruises and bumps, cut lips and black eyes
They asked why I never left
I told them he took something from me
He took my heart and left me feeling empty
To fill that void I replaced his love with my pain
Some called him an abuser
I called him my lover
To me it was all the same
This piece was written from a woman's point of view. It's not easy to know and hear of stories of woman that have been abused. If you know about someone who has gone through this kind of pain stand up for the voiceless.
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