Abuse, adultery and alcohol

You have replaced me with a half empty bottle

It rests in your lap

where I used to lie.

As you slouch at the edge of your bed,

Your fingernails dig into your head

leaving marks like the ones on my thigh

Smoke runs down your throat

You say it makes you feel alive

Yet it attacks you with every breath you take

every f*****g day

you push me further away,

then my hands begin to shake

You lean in to kiss me

and I smell that tacky, cheap perfume.

Pretty little Anabelle,

the one that stands at the end of the road

bright red lips and fake gold,

what did you want that she could sell?

Grabbing my waist

you pull me closer to you

teeth grazing against my hips.

Why do I love you so much

when I'm afraid of your touch?

The scream won't escape my lips