maybe this is my fault
maybe I’m actually to blame
he left the bruises
he stole Innocence
yet
I carry the guilt
I carry the shame
maybe its the shirt that actually fits
maybe it’s the skirt
maybe I provoked him
a little more make up these bruises won’t show
maybe if I can’t see them they won’t hurt
a dozen different aches
a dozen roses to make up for his “mistakes”
his love is like a morphine drip
it comes in strong
and in small doses
but his rage is different
it swallows me
I drown in his hatred
his anger is a ocean
I’m learning quickly that I can’t swim
and my chances of survival
are growing dim
Survival rate
Published inMain
Very revealing poem. If this is a true write,
I say run for your life.
Thank you and I did …it’s been a little over 2 years now still hurts like hell though
So glad you got away… Yes, the emotional pain takes a while to heal.
But these type of experiences make us wiser and more cautious.