He slapped her
Hard
She lay on the Dirt floor until she heard His footsteps disappear
into the Safety of their bedroom.

She looked up at Her yellowbrown walls.
“I should really repaint them”
They reminded her of Summer
and she hated Summer.

She wanted to cry,
but didn’t.
She wanted to call Them,
but couldn’t.

After all, this was only His First time
She climbed into their yellowbrown bed
which matched the yellowbrown walls
and yellowbrown fridge
which was specifically color coordinated with
the yellowbrown drapes that she had Loved so much.
She fell a sleep,
her warmish body pressed against His.
His being as hot as Summer.
She hated Summer.

She Loved him.
He Loved her.

He a pologized.

She thought it would Never happen a gain.
Never A nother time.
A nother cycle.
Repetition
  Repetition
   REPETITION
Over and over and over and over and over and over and over A gain.

She began to flood her river onto her too pink Cheeks
Slowly Choking to Death on her own
Self pity and Shame
And all he could do was grant her a hug of Darkness
as she quietly Drowned
After all, this was only his Ninth time.

She still hated Summer

And she still Loved him
He Loved her.

She fingered her bruises
like a well cherished Friend.
Gingerly
Carefully
Lovingly

She refused to buy him another Beer.
She thought he might Stop.
He didn’t.
He Con tinued
To De stroy
PERFECTION

They reported His Death.
She stood in front of grayblack coffin,
Her river Flowed faster and faster down
her emaciated Cheeks and onto His tombstone.
Faster and faster still
until she had to break the cool, cold surface
just to Find her own Humanity.

She still Loved him.
He must still Love her.

Her Mind began to drift.
Is there a God?
A man maybe,
with a long beard and a Wise and Kind face.
She had seen Him on TV.
Some kind of Religious channel about the story of Jesus.
She thought she would
Like to be like Jesus.

She made sure the rope was Tight.
The chair was just tall Enough to reach
with the Ends of her toes. She privately smiled
That Smile to herself.
As if she were sharing a Private joke.
And she was the Only one
who really knew the punch line.
The yellowbrown room was Hot.
As Hot as Summer.
She hated Summer.

She Jumped.
The rope was Tight.
It didn’t take long.
She was just trying to get to that Better place.
The Place where a TV God
with a long beard and a Kind face
would welcome her with the sharpness of a knife.
A Place where there was no Shame,
no yellowbrown fridge
that was carefully color coordinated
with the yellowbrown drapes,
no Summer,
no Private jokes,
no Imperfections,
and no Rivers.

A place of Peace.
Where there were no other bluepurplegray galaxies in the Universe
other than Him and Her.

Because she Loved him.
He Loved Her.

If love is what fixes every deepened wound
then why am I hurting?
If love is the answer to every problem
then why am I questioning?

If love is the sunshine on a dark day
then why am I feeling cold?
If love is a miracle potion that keeps you young
then why am I feeling old?

If love is what makes the world go round
then why am I stuck standing still?
If love is the band aid that protects all of your cuts
then why am I not yet healed?

If love is the only thing that is true
then why do I doubt?
If love demands you to be faithful
then why do I want to bail out?

If love is what you claim to be giving
then why am I always crying?
If love is what you say you're doing
then why inside am I dying?

If love is when you hold my throat
then why do they say I should want it?
If love is when you call me names
then why do they say I should like it?

If love is the night you pinned me to the ground
then why is everyone searching for it?
If love is the way you slammed me against the wall
then why is it crushing my spirits?

If love is the thing I'm receiving from you
then why am I always bruised?
If this is love, I do not want it.
Love is sacred, and not abuse.

tender beatings
delicate bones
beautiful tears
comforting pain
consented ****
willing victim

.esnes sekam lla ti dna

Come away O human child
to the waters and the wild
with a faerie hand in hand
for the world's more full of weeping
than you can understand.

Bridget,
Your pretty face,
was all they found in the peat
with the hoarfrost over your mouth
and your burnt skin curled in ribbons.
This, and your black stockings
he couldn't bear to remove.

Bridget,
Did you see the wildness in his eyes
that night he brought the priest
for last rites?
Did his hands shake
as he mixed the herbs with *****
and threw them in your face,
telling you to come home?

Bridget,
was he jealous of the sixpence in your apron pocket
the pieces of you he could never own
and the independent streak
that ran through your sensuous hair.
The hot iron at your throat
the only jewel he cared to hold there,
the slow smoke rising like a chain
'round your neck.

Bridget,
did you stare at the frightening faerie child,
his changeling wings beating above you
as he called you by his own name.
Did you scold him in the name of his aos si mother
to watch his strange eyes flare
as you choked on the dry bread
he'd jammed down your throat.
You were never his Bridget
you were your own.

Bridget,
You were never the last witch.
We are still hunted
across deserts and into alleys
acid and fists destroy the magic
of our bewitching eyes.
Angry, they reach for the pieces of us they can never own
and burn our hearts on hearths
across continents.
The smoke rising from so many fires,
unnoticed.

Burning eyes,
tears running down her face,
he tore her heart out again
as he put her in her place.

Pain racked her body
and hate-filled her mind,
but she couldn’t let it out
because it wasn’t the time.

Another day in this marriage,
another day with him,
she hated his whiskey breathe
as he climbed within.

Holding her down,
covering her face,
fighting for air, how the hell
did she get in this place?

Sitting in the bathtub
alone and afraid,
looking at all the marks
his ***** hands made.

Rage building, consuming within,
watching the blood swirl in the tub
and knowing her sweet baby girl,
was gone then…..
~

I will never admit what you’ve done to me.
I will never speak of the nights I’ve spent,
In front of the mirror
Asking myself why I had to live in this horrible body.
I’ve lost count of how many times
I screamed at the top of my lungs
To make my voice louder than yours.
To make my voice just like yours.
Now my words sound just like yours.
“You’re my strong girl”
Hands on neck.
“Stupid *****”
Glass broken.
“I love you”
Black eyes.
“You don’t know anything”
I saw it all.
I heard it all.
I felt it all.

"What was hell like"
The little girl asks me
With eyes full of innocence.
"Hell is growing up in a house that only taught hate,
But have hope darling
Because I've seen heaven.
Heaven was learning there is so much more."