Was I born a masochist or did society make me this way?

Tag: domestic violence


We played such a beautiful game and I lost so disastrously. Every trap, every bite, every time you dug your claws under my skin and drew blood with your malice, it will follow me till the day I die and leave you with a story you could never share. I hope you are proud of your legacy, and for your sake, I pray that victory tasted as sweet as you dreamt.

Some days I look at the happy strangers in our old photographs and wonder what happened to them. I wonder why I keep wanting to say I’m sorry when I’m still so angry about the past. It’s like learning how to hate something you love out of self preservation. I guess you’ve turned me into a coward too, so afraid of getting hurt that I insist on delivering the first strike, as if that will make a difference. I worry that karma will never leave us alone and we’ll be doomed to repeat this curse. I fear that you’ve dealt a blow so deadly I might spend the rest of my life regretting our last kiss.

Sometimes I feel sorry for you and all the others who will never experience the exquisite pain of loving someone who only dreams of leaving. I tell myself that I will survive this, and though a life tolerated is different to a life lived, the ending will always be the same.

But if I could kiss you again, the boy who set my world on fire and watched me burn into ashes; I’d be sure to soak my lips in poison, and promise that your final memory will be the sweetest.


What is your name
The one your mother called you before you were born
That no one else knew about
Who were you supposed to be
A lover or a friend
How did you find me
I was not seeking
For a love that would destroy me
When you left you broke my universe
Will you let me come back
Would you hurt me again so I’ll feel alive once more
Nostalgia haunts me
Now that you’re gone
I have written your name on my spine
That’s all they’ll see when they grab my throat
He knows
It won’t stop him
Please lead me back to you
Before he hurts me differently
You won’t be around when he inflicts real bruises
When every punch leaves purple or black
Will you save me again
Pretend to care even a little
A kiss with a fist is still better than none