Its Love too, isn’t it?
You are banging the door again,
Its 1am at night.
Trembling,
I reach for the lock.
Contemplating,
Whether I should be quiet,
Maybe you will just go away this time.
Out of habit,
Like a reflex_
I do open the door for you.
Standing there,
In rage, hair disheveled.
You are wearing your shoes,
On the wrong foot.
I have this intense urge,
To bend down,
and correct it for you.
Such a baseless wish.
In a second.
I am in your arms,
You are saying something,
Screaming.
Making my hair as disheveled as yours.
I wonder what wrong I did this time.
Woke up early.
Cleaned the house.
Even made your favorite dinner.
Its Valentines day after all.
You are not happy though.
I step on the glass you broke,
I try not to whimper,
As It makes you more angry.
This time, you use your belt.
You calm down.
After a while.
I pick up the broken pieces.
Tell you to come and eat.
After a beat or two,
You look at me.
With guilt or affection,
Its still a mystery to me.
You bring the first aid box,
Tend to my wounds.
Say you are sorry.
You say you love me.
So gentle.
So sweet.
I smile.
Always so sweet in the end.
I forgive him.
We eat together.
And go to bed.
Him sound asleep.
My eyes wide open.
Its love too,
Isn’t it?
Comments
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Too good
Simply superb, Congrats
It’s not love. It’s abuse.