To say you did right
When the world is full of wrong
To say you made it even
That you were the hero all along

A liar your whole life
Manipulative as can be
How foolish you were to think
You could ever justify hurting me

I won’t take showers anymore.
I won’t take them because
sometimes, when I set my Spotify on shuffle,
your favorite song still plays
because sometimes, when the water trickles down the small of my back, it feels a lot like your fingers
sometimes, soap is not enough
sometimes, I want to peel my skin up, layer by layer, until I am certain there is nothing left that you have touched
sometimes, I wonder if you still sleep on the mattress you buried me in,
wonder if there are others who share that same coffin
I wonder who I will be when I wake up tomorrow,
study my reflection in the cold, shiny shower head
with hope that one day it will change,
that i will no longer see
this
tongue biting *****,
key- laced, clenched fists *****,
flinching at the sight of chin stubble and strong jaws,
locked knees *****,
mace and matchstick *****,
feverishly avoiding eye contact,
temperature adjusting *****,
skin scrubbing *****,
birdcage mouth,
mascara tears,
weak *****.

I won’t take showers
because sometimes
I come out feeling dirtier
than I went in
because the condensation is enough
to fog up my mirror
but isn’t enough
to fog up my memory
because sometimes
an adams apple resembles
a fist to me
because I count the tiles and remember
that I am just a
paradoxical number,
the only number greater than zero
that still has no value

I wont take showers because
I know that is what
you would want me to do
you would want me
to cover the tracks for you

and if I
set myself on fire instead,
in order to destroy
any evidence
confirming
that you once lived here,
that would be
too obvious

I grow sicker

Day by day

As I realize:

Where I once saw a monster

I now see a man.    

("See?

I'm just like you.")

It grows more apparent

Each day I'm by your side

Close enough to see into the soul

I didn't think you had.

("I'm not so bad

After all.")

Don't get me wrong

There's not much there.

While my insides wither

I can see that yours

Are already cold and dead.

Empty.

("Come on, my dear.

Make me feel alive.")

Even when you hurt me

I find myself searching

Seeing right through you.

You break me down

While you're in shambles

Reducing both of us to ruins.

("No!

Don't you dare cry!")

But it's all too clear

In those rare moments

Of misplaced tenderness

That, maybe once

You might have known how to love.

("Hey, angel

Where's your halo?")

Sometimes

In the dead of night

When you're still and serene

I try holding you

Lightly tracing all the lines of your face

Wondering who made you this way.

("Shhh...")

Sometimes

I even wonder

If, because of the way things are going now

I might turn out like you one day.

("Don't look so scared.

You know you're okay.")

So I listen to you breathe

And I watch you dream

And sometimes I swear I hear a sob

And my insides cave in when I realize it's not mine.

("Oh, angel...")

I just wish someone loved you

Before you met me

So that maybe --

Just maybe --

We could both be alright

Maybe even meet

Under much better circumstances.

("Shhh...

Angel...")

And, even when you destroy me

I wish that

Somehow

I could love you.

("Please

Don't cry.")

It makes me sicker

Day by day

That I fall back into the arms

Time and time again

Of a monster

Who was once

A man.

("You know you're safe with me

Right?")

The tug of ‘love’
Or rather tug of war
Under the thumb
His temper flares

He sees the red mist
She disobeyed
He clenches his fists
In a white hot rage

She argues back
He tries to silence
But he’ll never admit
He’s prone to violence

‘She winds him up’
Or so he says
‘They’re all mentally ill’
‘He’s the one who’s sane’

She’s out the door
He yells in the street
In fast pursuit
As she tries to flee

But his claws are embedded
Deep in her psyche
Ingrained for decades
And she just can’t fight it

‘He didn’t do it’
‘She made it up’
So on it goes
This tug of ‘love’

He won’t confess
Even to himself
Thus it continues
As he refuses help

Thus like a yo-yo
He yanks her back in
And spins her in his lies
Until she’s bound up in string

There’s no escape
Alas, it seems
A fight to death?
Is that the key?

The cavalry has been
Time and time again
But time and time again
Neither will relent

Embroiled in this saga
For all to see
Until one of them succumbs
To their own mortality.

The barbed cycle of abuse
Spins and turns
The perpetrator roams free
No lessons learnt

Constantly escaping
The scales of justice
Fiercely holding its victim
In its angry clutches

Caught in its web
Of control and manipulation
Bound by a billion threads
Powerless under its jurisdiction

Unable to think
Independently
The persecuted victim
Destroyed psychologically

No immunity to fight
The toxic onslaughts
Be they physical, emotional
Or their own Stockholm-syndrome like thoughts

Effectively caged and imprisonned
From systematic debasement
Lacking the self-belief
To fully escape the situation

The abuser in denial
Anything untoward took place
Adopting the ‘victim’ mentality
Now this spider has fallen from grace

Delusional to the hilt
The lies trip from its tongue
The threats pour forth in a torrent
Now it’s victim has tried to run

But the victim begins to falter
The road ahead unclear
Soiled and slippery from the oil slick
The abuser upon it did smear

Sliding backwards
Into the pit of despair
The victim weakens
Descending there

The arms outstretched
To save this poor mite
Not quite strong enough
To wrench the victim out of its plight

Thus the cycle
Engages once more
Spinning and turning
Just as before.

I am not a victim
Of your broken glass
And I wonder how much more girls
You're going to harass

There's something
I want you to know
Pretty face and an ugly heart
Don't make a home

You spent days
Making me sure that I'm a sinner
But when they reward for the lies,
Honey, you're the winner

You like playing the "victim"
After bringing up the storm
You pulled me, twisted my arm
You meant no harm??

How easy is it for you
To be so disgusting?
All your filthy words
Are meaningless and rusting

In a way, I'm glad
That you're not mine
Who likes to keep wicked trash
Even for a dime?

She sits in front of the dishwasher;
The face inside stares back at her,
Eyes so deep and wasted.
Near the cabinet another face reaches eternally to the cabinet,
Eyes with misery and so bitter
The face behind her leans against the counter,
Eyes tense with barely concealed fear
Count to five
The face in the doorway stares at the kitchen, grayed in and gray,
with eyes frozen in shock, pulled back into a flinch,
A soccer player sees the ball heading for his face.

The face behind them all is faceless;
She kneels on hands and feet, picks up spilled glass,
shattered milk.
and blood.

She never looks at her,
but They all stare at her.

I remember those fears,
During those years,
Making coffee for your cup,
My belly so tense and tight,
Crying hours before you got up,
I knew what was coming even if
I did get it right,
The taste of blood from my nose,
It was too hot or too cold,
The bruising on my cheek,
It was too strong or too weak,
Or maybe not sweet enough
to suit your taste,
Burns when you threw it on my skin,
Years of coffee made joy a waste,

Now making coffee causes me to grin, This time the man on the receiving end,

Says it's perfect everytime with a big Ole grin.