In the Aftermath of Abuse

This is slam I wrote to potray the difficulties of finding, accepting, and giving love in the aftermath of an abusive relationship.

The stars were lucky to have shined upon you because that light touched your skin like I never had the courage to do. And if I could go back I'd hug you so much tighter but back then I was never much of a fighter. I mean, I fought my feelings back like a beast but those fears consumed my fists before I could find my feet. Or the words to wrap around you and hold you close. Entrapped in my censored "I miss yous" were cries of "I love you's" but it's been an eternity and not once have you left my mind. Not once have I said goodbye and it not hurt. Because it's the fire of unspoken words that burn and now your silence is searing into me more than lit cigarettes pressed firmly against my arm but that doesn't begin to describe the harm. Because those wounds have healed but the flesh that your crystal gaze rips into opens afresh everytime I think of you. And that's a lot. All the time. But a broken hearts never been concidered a crime and that makes me no witness or victim or martyr and my heart still beats despite of its murder. And I believe in Stockholm syndrome after seeing my heart find refuge in a new home in the hands of a stranger because my head too confused to seperate love from passion and infatuation felt it were necessary to inform my battered heart of your sanctuary when I was on verge of breakthrough. I touched the sky for an ephemeral eternity before crashing like arrows back into the sea but I found refuge only in the reflection of your eyes capturing both the seas and skies and I filled your depths with my highs and as I pressed my pieces into you I watched my neverlasting breakthrough morph to everpresent breakdown because I once felt the same for eyes of honey brown. And I saw flashbacks of a face I hadn't seen in more than a year and couldn't shed a single tear because I am the monster in this situation not victim but inhibitor of your temptation and I fell in love and watched you fall the same but I'd fallen before which means I'm to blame. But we forget that Shelley's monster was the man that played God not the motley who stole life from a lightening rod. He was a cold scientist with a warm smile that made me mistake butterflies and bile. I thought love felt like blooming bruises and broken wrists. Cuts, burns, contusions and the sting of his fists. And I gaze upon your still-beating heart with blackened eyes and remember that within me one still resides. I, in fear of becoming the monster I still hate, both resent and adore your willingness to wait. The light in your eyes reminds me of what I dreamt love would be. I won't watch you fall victim to the monster that possesses me. One day my wounds will heal and when you touch me I will feel. Not the ghost of his hand or the angle in which his hits would land. I will feel your skin, and see your face and your touch will make my heart race. Not terror or maliciousness but warmth and consent driven kisses. I will not fall prey to this chain reaction. Your light, your heart is safe with me. I will be your sanction and teach you what love should be. Something no one ever did for me.

Author's Note

This is more meant to be a spoken word piece so please ignore the lack of stanzas and indentation.

Reviews

[keith]

it read from first word to the last
a deep felt commentary
it calls out for another piece

[Maria]

Ok, well it was well written as I was able to grasp all the emotions and feelings. Very detailed as well.
Great Writing.