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A Slave to Love
December 1, 2016
His lips taste of lies.
His sturdy hands paint my face with dark colors that resemble the night sky.
His words hold broken promises that now drape my mind, holding it hostage.
He is a stranger to me.
He reeks of desperation and lost love.
The words “for better or for worse” no longer hold meaning.
My body has been reduced to nothing but a means for his pleasure.
My voice, a requirement of residence, never to be heard.
My light, once as bright as the early morning sun, stolen.
Simply a soulless shape at the command of his hand.
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