You wonder why I won’t come back
Forgetting the pain I felt in your grasp;
As every bone fought not to snap.
Against the floor, my skin you cracked.
Bruises marked by all the screaming;
Never mind my forced deceiving.
A revolver held close to my head
Because I knew you’d want me dead–
Paper bullets of the mind
Remind me of the time you cried.
You were forced to say “good-bye.”
You play the victim and live the lie.
But you forget that I know you,
And I know the way you move…
I know what you used to do.
Beat my skull, for her heart you’d sooth;
Scars that stain soft and ivory flesh–
The final remnants of a broken past.
My heart regains and beats afresh
Yet, on the floor, I beg for last
It was an oddly warm December
You stained me with cigarette embers
Years faded black to purple then pink
Soaked away as paper makes of ink.
But of the impressions, eternal remains
The frayed ribbon of a soul still aches
As a gentle life is forced in feign
A child of fear, hidden in quakes.
