Wasteland Deity

05 Abuse

                 

I wanted you there. There when the grief in me drowned my lungs and burrowed into my heart. I wanted you there. Not just your body but in mind. You were always playing the victim. You wanted me to pretend that everything was my fault even when your fist collided with my cheek bone. You wanted me to believe that you were right and I was wrong.

You took me back to days when I would write poetry in the dark as I would hear the bed creak through the walls while my parents made love. You took me back to a time when sleep was nothing to me and my art defied gravity. You took me back to a time when I felt infinite. And maybe that's why I kept you near. Even when the bruises on my thighs looked like lost galaxies and my eyes were heavy with you. I kept you near because you took me back to a time when I was free.

But now as I sit at the end of the bed while you drink away what life is left in you, I know that I can't pretend and I won't. Because I'm tired of making excuses for the way you were brought up. I'm tired of pretending that I can cure you when all that I am is a temporary fix. I don't want to be that cliche. I don't want to be that woman. I will fight my way through the darkened streets with demons at my heels if it means that I can get away from you. I'm not afraid of the dark. I've been here before.

I wanted you there. Like I tried to be there for you. And maybe you did try and I was too blind to see. But either way a fist to my stomach has told me that enough is enough. I will not fight for you. I will not lie for you. I will not love you even if I do. Because your abuse has taught me that you're the liquor on my lips, the cigarette between my fingertips. You are walking death with your hands on my hips. Everything that is bad for me. I will not love you even if I do.