poetry · writing

Didn’t Love Me Pt 1

domesticviolence

I loved you but you didn’t love me

Your finger prints were like tattoos around my neck . The bald spots plagued my head like alopecia does to its victims. I left behind a life to make one with you and the lives we created. Yet you held that knife to me while I held them and cried. I was covered in red, drowning in quick sand my head barely above the surface – with each breath I fought as if it were my last. I loved you but you didn’t love me.

I tolerated the abuse based off a portrait of yourself you had painted for me. The man I fell in love with snuck into the back window of my soul and took my life right before my eyes. My body was nothing more than an empty shell, one which no one would want to admire if It was found by the shore. I loved you but you didn’t love me.

Your hands have caused damage, but your words would slice me like razor blades. With time bruises fade, while the cuts leave permanent scars. Although the pain is like a gun shot wound to the head this type of trauma cannot be treated in a hospital. How can I overcome the woman I have become, numbed by substances, chasing the man who inflicted this death sentence I was facing. I spent nights in the mirror staring at a familiar stranger whom shared my same memories in fear. Depression waves the size of tsunamis – he didn’t kill me so I was killing myself.

I loved you, I didn’t love me.