With eyes soaked like sponges that
I used to clean your drunken rage from
Our kitchen tiles, I stood,
Staring out at the memories you created,
Like I was a small ship capsizing in the perilous ocean.
Cold, dark and alone, I cry myself to sleep in our bed,
The sheets caressing the bruises you had left,
The only mark you had ever left on my life since we had began.
“Haven’t I given enough?”
I...