Domestic

We were in love; the kind of love that takes the very first flower you have to give.

The kind of love that takes you from caring to all consuming emotions like a fire out of control.

Flames burning so bright yet so out of control I didn’t see that the flames were yet an incased warning sign.

It always starts with a whisper of “You sure you want to wear that” then so calmed changes to “ I think you should wear this”.

You thinks it’s cute until the day you say no.

The day you see the demon in the man that would leave his scars on your skin.

You trade love notes for death threats

Hugs for choke holds

Loving words or control and belittling

You trade your dignity for his power hold

Your respect for his control

Your faith because you feel there is no one to save you.

You keep the emotions in to self analyze, question what is wrong with me that he’s so angry

Did I make wrong meal

Say the wrong thing

I got it I’ll fix it by doing as asked

As if your a child that must obey.

You forgive because the flowers on the table always say sorry

You will believe empty promises of “Babe it will be the Last time”.

I promise you it is Never the last time unless you don’t make it out