Everything changed the year that we got married.
And after that, we moved out to the suburbs.
How young we were, how ignorant, how ready
to think the only history was our own.

A captive, hostage of your vicious anger.
The facade of your caring baby blue eyes
now contorted with vicious cruelty.
My once unbroken body
now a mess of tangled hair,
busted and bloody lips,
fist and finger-shaped
bruises.


Breath, hot enough to melt me.
Fists mold my flesh into his putty,
knife caressing my throat, prolonging the agony.
His violent words, stab me,
force me, hostage, as the
bombs explode around me
and my life fades slowly
before my eyes.


Please don’t kill me.
I beg, like a bloody wounded doe.
I’ve changed my mind…
Please, just kill me.
His refusal to spare my death
propels him, the tortures continue.


I see his bed, the puddle of blood,
as my final resting place.
Though our battle rages in the darkness,
when the sun begins to rise,
the yellow rays bring a promise of life.


In conceding to his war tortures,
a treaty is forged.
He gently kisses my cheek and whispers
this tug-of-war is our little secret.

We failed our moment or our moment failed us.
The times were grand in size and we were small.