Warrior

Her pale skin was softer than silk, so his rage left imprints,

With every battle, her military intelligence deemed incapable,

His fastest weapons were his fists,

His most lethal weapons were his words,

Striking and defacing its subtleness with every hit,

Leaving dire marks and scars on her helpless sheets,

Scars concatenated to tattoos drawn deep into her soul,

Imprints from every hurt, every tear, and every denial,

Permanent trails of every battle she’s ever fought and lost  

And winning was a faux tale she’d only dreamed of.

She’s at war with herself for creating room for this vandalization,

For staying and making excuses for his constant infliction of excruciating pain,

But she knows she needs these scars to feel strong,

They remind her that she’s a survivor

That she’s more than just a “Plain Jane” hanging on by a thread,

And maybe she’s secretly obsessed with being seen as a warrior

Or could it be that she’s content here?

Frightened, but content.

She wouldn’t want to exist in a world where he’d cease to be hers,

There would be nothing but darkness in that world,

And even if she gains her senses and moves on,

What if the lashes sound harder and the cuts dig deeper the second time?

Then its lonesome regret and agony,

Dying forever in that irony,

And now even though she’s running out of room for his pain inflicting tattoos,

They are constant reminders that life could be a lot worse,

That she’d never get it any better, she didn’t deserve any better.

So she’d mount these scars,

Create room for them,

Love them,

Nurture them, she’d leave her wounds and tend to his,

Let these scars be a reminder of how she would love to hate the pain,

Secretly pray that they would never fade away,

Ignore the voices of reason in her head,

She had to constantly remind herself,

As she stood over the shattered rectangular pieces of glass and watched them cut deep into her heels,

That this was what life handed to her,

Whilst dabbing the corner of her eyes, and watching blood run down her pale thighs,

She had to remind herself that even though she had lost yet another child,

There were worse things than death,

That she didn’t feel like she was fighting a battle she would never win,

That waking up to a world where she was loved and not battered was a fantasy,

That love came in different packages and hers was meant to be ripped,

She had to remind herself that this was what destiny had in store for her,

She had to remind herself that the war was always worth fighting,

She had to remind herself that she was a warrior.