i think you traumatized me black and blue
black and blue
black and blue
all of the bruises
they are free from my skin
but not from my head
you traumatized me
black and blue
black and blue

you can hate me for all that i am worth
(which is nothing at all)
i can't believe how you sat there and just watched me choke
(all over your spiteful words)
and then when it was all over you would take my hand
(i'm sorry, i love you, i promise it won't happen again)
and a week later here i was, begging you to see the damaging effects of your blows
(but you made me so mad, quit making me so mad and i won't do this again)
how many countless nights did i fall asleep with a bruise on my cheek
(it's a new morning, i love you, i love you, i'm sorry for last night)
why did i find myself still loving you? love should not hurt, but
(i love hurting you, more than i actually love you)
and here we went, here we go, i'm at the mercy of your first, just please don't go

but i ******* want to go

my skin is turning purple
due to your absence
you can't see the bruises you left on my skin
you are not who I expected you to be but it is who you have always been
I assumed you were kind by the way you looked at me
the way you touched my pale skin
I convinced myself that I deserved the love you provided for me
but I'm lying to myself because you are a sin
you never cared or loved for me
It was all an act
I could tell when we first kissed
the kiss we shared was not true because you weren't even there
your mind was pondering about her
I loved you but you loved your ex lover
I gave you my all and it wasn't enough to make you want me
so I'm begging you please
let go and accept me
~ a.h.

There is nothing romantic about falling  down stairs
Tumbling down granite steps, clothed in a light cotton dress and laughter

There is nothing graceful about falling in love
Stammering out firecracker words, armed with bullet powder breath and suspicion

I tripped into love with you

Rolling down, unsure of what bruises I would walk away with, prescribing each second with a dose of eternity

You have not strolled away yet with your flowing swagger, just as I have not waddled off with my tangled stride

Instead, we are both grasping for a rail to break our fall,
or rather to delay the crash on the base tread

Falling is adrenaline rush wonder
Lets keep falling, together

At the bottom, I will tend to your bruises
So we can take another leap of faith

Ode to the belt
And how nice it never felt
Ode to the fist
That knew just how to make my stomach twist
Ode to the bruises
Which left no excuses
Ode to my jaw
For that punch it never quite saw
Ode to my ears
All those nights when I could hear my brothers' tears
Ode to my dad
And every time he's ever gotten mad
Ode to the world
And every obstacle its hurled
Ode to ode
And how well it never quite bode

I feel my outsides crack.
"Please-" I beg. "I take it back."
A set of white teeth glisten.
Bad words, mad words, I still listen.

With your fingers you paint me purple and blue.
Each spot a slightly different hue.
Then in front of others I wear a mask.
"I'm clumsy" - I tell those who ask.

You are all bark- yet you bite.
I shiver in fright.

You tell me I'm small.
What am I to you, a nut?
Mr. Nutcracker.

He loved her madly
Pinched skin, purple and blue. Still
her tears gave him joy.

Love love love
Ours is like withered flowers
Because whenever I see my dark circles
Or freshly painted bruises spreading over my canvas
I see violets blooming //
Love love love
Ours is like licking flames
Because whenever I look into your eyes
Or feel the warmth of your touch leaving burn marks
I remember who painted me //
Love is not *love at all
And I guess I'm beginning to see
That violet is your favorite color
And I am your masterpiece //
~a.p

I see you in your four walls
why aren't they caving in the way mine always do
why aren't you desperately forcing them up, making your arms black and blue
I see you in your warm halls
your favourite people too
you look comfortable
the people also do
your warm halls are painted an agonising shade of violet,
they look just like my bruises
the walls are electric with the faces of ecstasy
the love and compassion
the way people are meant to be
who are those people?
what do they do?
do you make them breakfast in bed? do they do the same for you?
your walls are a scrapbook
they are a symphony
of the good times

I want my walls to look like yours

~ T.T