your own definition of love is created at a very young age, your parents usually have that role. His hands around my thighs grabbing me, him choosing my side, defending me. Calling me to play a game, rules of his own.
That defined love to me.
The absence of my parents, the exceeding obscene scenery of his drunken smiles.
You see, you can’t escape it since it was engraved at such a young age. No matter the length of therapy, the good men, good friends. you can’t see it, you cannot define the RIGHT way to love, not then, not now, not ever.
I fell in love twice
with abuse twice
The bruised wrists
The force of another and my wet cheeks, soaked through bloody sheets, he breathes me in satisfied, suffocating me, closing in on me. A black veil, his body. His force into me.
thats how I lost my virginity
You escape it once only to go back into it again because a man that shows you the love you deserve,is absent to you. Why do you need him? right? he isn’t love.
it isn’t abuse
HIS own Right definition of love, pecks on the nose, and never a raised voice. Gentle hands, always expected, giving. patient, forgiving. No hint of the glassy anger in his eyes…….will never be right to you. Will it?