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Rated: GC · Poetry · Dark · #2123758
Based on a personal experience
They frequently imagined a knife laying on top of her chest,
Millimeters away from striking their pericardium.
When this heart was close to receiving the unconditional love needed to heal its keloid scarring,
Sweat dropped down their armpits and hairs stood up on the back of their neck-
They wonder if it’s poison they'll receive again this time?


I'm not sure what it was about that sunny August day of 2016
That made them decide it was time to sever ties,
But it happened,
And they walked into Dunkin Donuts afterwards,
Sobbing too heavily to order a chocolate cake donut.
They walked to their sister's house and and asked if it would be acceptable
To stay at their place for a few months, to be safe, although life is not perfectible-

Piece-by-piece, they recalled memories of tearful put-downs and painful confrontations,
And the words “how I feel doesn’t matter” disturbingly slipping off the tongue,
And countless get-togethers that might have been more enjoyable if they hadn't somehow done something to put him in a bad mood at the event,
And roaches and piles of dishes in their shared tiny apartment owned by an orange-skinned lady with deep smoker’s wrinkles:
A life thoroughly unhappy, and a toxic and problematic relationship.

Finally, a vague dissatisfaction turned into a progressive realization
And the final ideation
That they deserved better
And they wrote a letter
To themselves in the future.
They couldn’t stand the thought of herself and her future with this warlock,
And they realized that their calling was truly not to fix
This disturbed prick.

Everyone pushes others to leave,
But we rarely comment on about how difficult it is To cope and reinvent oneself after domestic abuse.
Thank God the survivor's loved ones made it their business to intervene in that case,
And created a safe space,
Because an entire year and a half of young adulthood is now sacrificed and gone,
To a warlock who create a dark pit in the survivor’s stomach at his mention and when forced to utter “I love you too,”

But without the intervention of others who cared for purposes selfless through and through,
18 months with a man, whose case belonged in a basket, might have continued into a lifetime sealed by a casket.
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