Love can hit you hard in so many ways.
It’s a fact in the end someone always pays.
Love can hurt, we all know that’s true.
It can knock you senseless black and blue.
This was her kind of cuddle her tender kiss.
She thought love was delivered on the end of a fist.
Begging for forgiveness curled up in a ball.
She had been brought up on this love since she was small.
She use to sit in silence, as her Father loved her Mother.
The same traits she found in every single former lover.
He couldn’t help himself is how she would think.
She said he is only like that when he’d have a drink.
She just wanted to be wanted, more scared to be alone.
A walking punch bag in a dysfunctional home.
With no self esteem, she didn’t do pride.
She wore a brave smile but was hollow inside.
He didn’t know what love was, and how could he learn.
Violence was the way he would show his concern.
She never answered back, never dared give lip.
It was best to keep quiet or she just got hit.
She wore her big dark glasses, even in the rain.
A feeble half hearted disguise to mask her pain.
Eye swollen black and bloodshot , like a Panda Bear.
She would flee the home, but always ended back there.
A backhanded slap hits home as she walks through the door.
Punches to the rib cage only prove he loves her more.
To teach her a life lesson, the way that only violence can.
As she tastes the love and hate tattooed knuckles of her man.
She sees her children on the sofa as they silently stare.
That look hits her harder than any punch, she becomes aware.
This was how her Mother and Father showed their love.
A baptism of violence immune to the sight of pain and blood
That moment of clarity when she knew this love was wrong.
Better late than never, but she should have known it all along.
She told him that she was leaving, but he called her bluff.
Love flew out the window and the beating got rough.
Her face was black and blue, but she spat blood red.
He loved her so much until his knuckles bled.
Striking her faster than a lightning bolt.
She cried out she was sorry it was all her fault.
But the red mist was upon him she was fighting for her life.
She ran into the kitchen and she grabbed the carving knife.
He stood there his eyes bulging with rage, he showed no fear
Ripping open his shirt, he bared his chest and spat out stick it here.
She was backed into a corner, he started to advance.
Time turned to slow motion she would only get one chance.
He didn’t think she had the nerve to do it until he felt the knife.
Plunging through his heart and slowly ending his short life.
She stood there paralyzed with fear, then hit with guilt.
The knife stuck in his heart was embedded to the hilt.
She watched a single tear form and roll from his eye.
He uttered just one word and asked her why.
She couldn’t find an answer as the floor turned red.
She burst out crying and she cradled his head.
Standing in the doorway, her children both looked on.
They smiled at their Mother, all their fear was now gone.
For they were immune to violence and the sight of blood.
But they knew no one could love them the way their mother would