Generic

love never meant protection—
at least not your kind.
you showed no tremor of remorse
when your hands gripped my skin;
not to shield,
not to love,
but to punish.

I still taste the question on my tongue:
why choose me
if everything about me—
my laugh, my voice,
the sight of me breathing—
made you seethe?
was I dragging you to your worst,
or just easy to break?

All i do know is that, 
I didn’t deserve to lie paralysed
on that mattress,
darkness curling at the corners
while you described
exactly how you’d hurt me—
and almost did.
I remember your words
splintering my soul
before your hands could finish.

sometimes I wonder
what if I hadn’t run,
what if my body refused to move?
but the moment the thought comes,
I’m on the floor,
hands clamped over my ears,
lungs clawing for air,
eyes spilling,
heart convulsing.

so I don’t.
I don’t imagine the what-ifs,
because I’m still bleeding
from what did happen.

Love doesn't promise protection