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

Tag: tw


he says i’m all teeth and sharp edges
and soft skin doesn’t make up for the bruises i leave in the mornings
we fight we scream we kiss and wait for the guilt to wash in
we pretend we never wanted any of this to happen
i smile so much these days my cheeks are always aching and i never tell him that i have to bite my tongue to keep in the poison
i don’t show him the bullets under my skin

i tell him purple is my favourite colour but i don’t explain the reason
he watches the bruises blend in and tells me i’m too broken
i’m fractured i’m fragments but i’m stronger at the seams
i’ve been sewed up and smashed to pieces and glued together again
so maybe i am impossible to live with but you will never see me give in

he says i’m jagged knives and sinking stones but there’s no turning back now
and still waters run deep but he’s still waiting to see me angry
we poke and prod each others wounds till we’re both raw and bleeding
he tries to kiss it better but pride always get in the way of healing
i don’t show him the hollowness in my chest

i tell him rainy days are my favourite because i get to stay in but i don’t say i miss him
he shows up on my doorstep with roses at 10pm and i yell at him for no god damn reason (i yell at him because i love him)
i ask him if my hands are steady and i play a tune that can’t be forgotten will he still remember me when his shirt has finally been washed so many times that my scent is no longer stuck to the fabric
i just wanted to be his favourite

he says i’m tired of your crying and manipulation
i didn’t fucking sign up for this (i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry)
i laugh and laugh and laugh and it comes out in frozen stitches and silence completes the spaces he used to fill in
we pack our bags we never say goodbye and i forget our composition
i don’t tell him that i love him


We lose ourselves in our desperation to be kept. We lie and beg, pretending we can get past our fundamental differences, but late at night we question why we never said ‘no, that’s not true, I know better’. She doesn’t have to leave to leave you, did you know that? You lost her the first time you raised a fist, and she stayed for the sweetest kiss, but you lost her all the same. Each bruise takes away a little more spark, and none of that ever gets replaced.

The first time you raised your voice, she burst into tears and you stormed out of the room, still livid, even though you’d forgotten what made you angry in the first place. Did you ever know the reason, and was she ever truly to blame, or was it easier to make her sad than to admit your own failures? The phone rang and she fought to keep her voice neutral. She was a brilliant actress, no one ever suspected anything. She never wanted to turn anyone against you, in case she had to defend herself against them too.

The first time your hand struck her face you both looked surprised. She stared at you in shock as your rage crumbled down and you begged her forgiveness, promising to change. The first time you left a bruise, you swore you’d meant to punch the wall, and you didn’t miss on purpose. She bit down on her bottom lip and drew blood rather than scream, because no one should have to know about this.

But bruises fade and she was never strong enough to say ‘enough’. Clever monsters never bare their claws in front of witnesses, and they know how to say ‘I love you’ in the most sincere voice. So she stayed, and stayed, and stayed.