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Abusive Relationships
January 30, 2019
After rain,
the remains are still stained
to my drained grey matter.
I still hang dripping
at the stake for all to withtake.
As I hold blades to my neck
possessed by my own threats.
I start to lose grasp,
and I'm reeled back in.
My hands are bleached
and my scars tell the stories.
You only hear
what you comprehend.
I’m sewn to him.
Every thread interlocked
with he who is dangerously,
adoring me.
I constantly find myself
itching and whining
under this coat
of kneading unfamiliarity.
Leaving that
bloody
bile
aftertaste.
© Dawn Grace R., Barrigada, Guam
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