Such a con man convincing me that I was so beautiful, his saving grace,
With his hands, he painted my face,
With make-up I would have to retrace,
I would dress pretty just for him,
I kept my body fit and trim,
Though for real, I didn't know it was a messed up,
I tried to be his best partner, his loving wife.
Shocked and and scared every time,
like it was something new, that just began,
He'd beg my forgiveness again & again,
how I always forgave, forgetting all the prior distress,
just to continue day after day.

Pulling my hair, using your fist to paint my lips the color of crimson red, fearing each time I'd die.
It even happened when you weren't full of whiskey,
I'd have moments of reality,
knowing I had to get out for my babies,
You had everyone convinced you were innocent,
I was the one that suffered your vengeance,
like an illusion, everyone took your side,
they all believed every time you lied.

I have no more shame, no more fear,
I don't have to pretend because I'm no longer your possession for abuse.
How do you feel now tough guy, knowing I'm free?
How does it feel every time you look up high,
Knowing I'm a shining light in the sky,
You probably don't feel nothing at all,
your just a parasite who is the devils delight,
You look so pathetic and small when I look down from heaven each and every night.
Be careful because for you, it's still a hard fall on the way down.
You're out of luck because I'm out of that box.
The last night I was scared to close my eyes was the last time that I closed them once and for all.
~SacredInkedBlood

It's about time I write about him
Him who tried to steal all of my strength
But took my weaknesses
Him who bruised me where clothes could hide and skin could cover
Him who ****** compassion out of each vein that runs beneath my flesh
Him who kicked motivation out of the insides of my cheeks, barely missing my teeth
Him who tossed me at the wall so hard the noise will echo into my grave
Him who would drive me off the road while I am walking
Him whose clenched fists kissed me more than he did
Him who would say the words "I love you" like he was screaming "I'm just trying to keep you!"
Him who'd tell me he's always hated when women have red hair only after I told him that's my favourite colour on me
Him who only cared about his favourite colour on me
Him who said he'd give me a home but gave me a cage, a place to sleep but gave me a space to cry, a place to live but an atmosphere that made me want to die
Him who strived to convince life to leave my dark brown eyes
Him who tried so hard to steal all of my strength
But in the end, I left him with my weaknesses.

i had a dream about you last night.

i’m wearing mismatched socks.
my face, bruised and ******
my body, slumped
in the corner of the handicap stall.
you’re standing above me
smiling, happy even.

“not happy, just killing time”.
your voice so soft, so sweet
the perfect lullaby
to put me to sleep.
i pass out from your love.

i woke up this morning
phone cord wrapped around my neck.
felt like a noose,
felt like you.
“i didn’t mean to hurt you”
(but you’ll do it again).

cigarettes in the backyard.
crossed legs on the patio table.
it feels like my stomach is filled with acid
and my head is filled with smoke.
you grabbed me and it stung like a bee.
i want to drink ’til i forget you.
i want to get so high that i forget myself.

i’m no angel.
i’m just a little dolly who gets broken easily.
i’m an artist using their own body as a canvas,
razor blades for brushes, blood for paint.
be a disaster with me.
ruin me with your eyes,
fill my soul with *****
and break my bones.

i’m feeling emotionally dead inside.
like forgotten flowers in the attic,
unfilled holes in the ceiling.
i’m hollow.
like vintage television sitcoms,
trap doors in old houses.

the chambers of my heart are filled
with cobwebs and spider eggs.
eyelids swollen shut.
mud up to my ears;
i’m choking on worms.
you’re killing me
but a very muffled “i forgive you”
still manages to escape my lips.

there is no remedy for a sickness quite like this.

The first time I met you, I tasted blood in my mouth. You reeked of ***** and misogyny and bad intentions. You reeked of my mother’s rotting happiness.

Every time I saw you my skin turned to Braille, but that never gave you the right to try and read it. See, the small of my back was not your pocket, my chin was not your coffee cup and my shoulder was not a place for your crocodile tears. You don’t have to touch a person to know them.

When you realized I wasn’t a tween romance novel, you started to read my mom like she was self-help book. But I knew you were illiterate the day my mother’s makeup foundation couldn’t find the exact shade that went with black eye. The cut on her lip was just a new shade of lipstick and the bruises encircling her neck and wrists began to look like jewelry. She told me they cost more than any pearls she’s ever owned. And like Samson, my mother’s hair was cut short. But it was by her doing. What good was strength when you were the one pulling her around by it?

But the moment we found out that she was carrying life inside of her your hands had to find a new hobby. I suggested training your fingers on how to pack a bag but instead you chose how to learn to pick up bigger bottles. It was a relief to see my mothers stomach swell rather than her face but 9 months is nothing compared to 18 years.

The only solace I find in you being in my brother’s life is that I won’t have to teach him how to hate you, he’ll already know. And I’m counting down the days until the ocean in his veins form a category 5 hurricane. I’m counting down the days until he destroys you.