I was like a dog, missing him when he was not home. A day without him felt like an eternity. I needed to write down how much he meant to me, how much I needed him to complete me and my meager existence.

It took all day to write the poem.

"What is this?" he asked.

"It’s for you," I said, as hopeful and shy as a child gifting her artwork. It had meant so much to me.

He stared at it, his lips moving slowly, his head tilted to one side.

"What does it mean," he said finally and I snatched the paper from his grip. 

He yelled out and there was blood on his finger where the paper cut. 

"What the hell," he said. "Psychotic bitch."

I lashed out at him and he punched me in the stomach and I doubled over, gasping for air, hands clutching my stomach in an attempt to contain the fire.

"Fuck," he said. "I’m sorry, babe."

He moved forward, hands outstretched, and I hissed at him, a wild cat snarl that sounded strangled from my vocal cords and he stopped. I turned around, still half-bent, and walked into our bedroom like an old crone and lay down on the bed. 

I hurt all over.

The poem stayed crumpled in my fist.

Oh, I brought you into the great country

Oh, I put a roof over your head

Oh, I fed your starving belly

Oh, I paid all the bills

            I did

THIS And THIS

            And 

          THAT

I 

Am

The Hero!!

But the fact is!

You ruined my entire life

You put me into an isolated cell

You fed me unhealthy greasy food 

And caused me to lose my own business

YOU

.

TOOK

.

MY

.

FREEDOM!!

And your “Hero-ness” is nothing but hero complex.

You didn’t love me. You loved my appearance. 

When I asked you; why do you love me?

You answered; you’re handsome.

And continued to petting me 》》》》》[STOP!]

. . .

I’ll get off here. 

#her #hero #complex #abusive #relationship

She didn't know why she married him, didn't know why she put up with him day after day. Didn't know why she hadn't listened to her parents. Or why she put up with him day after day.

     Maybe because, deep down inside of her, she still loved this man who treated her like...nothing.

     She pulls in a deep breath, and turns away, letting the tears fall for forgotten promises and lost love.

Thoughts sail away in loosely packed barrels

tucked within gunpowder and fine silks and 

beside the rum.  Whether by sunken ship

or port, I am split from them now 

until the time I wear away and reside

beside the other bones.

My heart slips away with the pink moon

that parts the horizon like Moses the sea;

dawn shatters the night like broken glass

and my heart is only one of the shards left

beside the murky puddles.  Whether by 

broom or rain, I am split from it

until the time I wear away and reside

beside the other bones.

Handsome commandeer who steers the ship and

shoots the gun, rob my chest of organs

until again departs the sun.  I've nothing left

to give you but my meager, meek backbone

so fare me well; let me reside

beside the other bones.

Heroin loved me. 

The moment the needle pierced the scrubbed red skin in the crook of my elbow, I knew she was a little weary, but when I pressed down and an explosion of relief and ecstasy shoved me off of the edge of stress and into the loving arms of absolution, it was clear she had grown fond of me.

Staying in bed with her after felt like coming home, and when that glorious feeling eventually fled, my palms began itching for her. I was falling in love, hard and fast.

Life crashed and crumbled after that, sputtering to a grinding halt, but I didn't blame her once. She was there for me through it all, my beautiful white lady. During my lows; during my highs; during the roller coaster of events that at one point might have consumed me. 

Even when I ceased cleaning my arm and the syringe before slipping it into the warmth of my body because it no longer seemed as important, she loved me. Even as I slowly cut all connection with my family members because they didn't approve of her, she loved me. Especially when my teeth began to ache, like they were planning a jailbreak the next time I fell asleep with heroin in my arms, she loved me.

Sure, there were negative aspects that came with it, but I didn't care. She accepted me, she cared for me, she let me know that no matter what happened or who left, her feelings would never change.

Laying on that bed from years before, recreating the world shaking events, I stare at the crusted dirt clinging desperately to under my chipped nails. Vision closing in, breath escaping me in uneven gasps, final fleeting thoughts sweep past consciousness. 

I'm hers, and she's mine.

Isn't it true love when you're willing to die for it?

I woke in a pile of filth. Fat bulged beneath grease-soaked layers of unwashed clothing. Empty packets rustled and an avalanche of age-soggy crumbs dislodged as I stood.

It was time to come to terms with my reality;

Food and I abuse each other. 

The more I consume the more I want. 

Bruises heal. Scars don't.

She still wears the scars from her previous relationship.

She is broken, and I am just picking up the pieces.

I love her and she knows that.

However she can't help her anxiety.

She can't help that she gets jealous.

She been hurt too many times

Her trust been broken too many times

She been cheated on too many times

She been hit too many times to count.

When I tell her I love her,

She doubts it, she can't help it.

When I tell her that she beautiful,

She thinks that I have an agenda.

She wonders why I am still here.

Why I look at her darkness and don't run away.

She wonders why I hold her tight,

Even though she crying for the umpteenth time.

Oh but I love her, with all her flaws and imperfection.

I don't see her past, I see a future with her.

When I speak sweetly, these words are foreign to her.

When we make love, she is surprised by my gentle touch, it is during these moments when she holds on to me tightly. What had once been a loveless act, in a loveless marriage, is now an enflamed act of passion.

But then she becomes scared, for she not accustom to a good thing, so she runs away.

However I catch her every time. For regardless of all her presumed imperfection, she is mine, and only mine.

My bones are healed

Bruises all gone

Thanks for the PTSD though,

Oh and the Brain injury that

gave me Epilepsy for the rest of

my life that was a nice touch.

Did you think I would let you

Stop me from raising my children

and living a life?

Did you think your manipulation

And lies was going to keep me from

Being the awesome strong amazon

that I am?

WOW!

Were YOU wrong!

HERE I AM BABY!

BEAUTIFUL,

STRONG,

WITHOUT YOU!

I saw this challenge

Described so succinctly

And laughed a bit

I must admit

Because too much 

Freedom

Is too scary

It's never as easy

As two words

Like

"Abusive Relationships"

Or, "I do"