In the beginning, his love was perfect.
The words he spoke, were as beautiful as a freshly bloomed rose in the morning sun.
I felt wonderful, and his words shook every broken piece I had back together.
Though, with perfection, you pay a price.
Because perfection is nothing but a manipulative, narcissistic lie.
The pieces he shook back together began to shatter inside me.
From every word, and action he threw…. They cut deep.
I began to choke on my own blood as my pieces began to cut deeper and deeper.
But the only thing he could worry about, was if his hands could choke me more as they were placed around my neck.
People wondered why I was allowing this.
Why couldn’t I see that I deserved more?
But how can you see the blood dripping from your mouth when someone is forcing “I love you”s right out of your throat?
His violent touch, and his cold words soon became all that I had ever wanted.
I died soon after and became something I couldn’t never think of me being.
My eyes became blackened and my wrists became blue.
I became a slave to the control that he had taken over me.
I refused every offer to be brought back to life, because in my mind, he was all that I needed.
I didn’t care about the life I once had, because that was a life without him.
My body began to rot.
The stench so strong that it tore everyone I ever loved before away from me.
It kept tearing, and soon enough I was left with nothing.
He thought it was beautiful, though and that’s the only thing in my diseased mind that mattered.
With every punch he threw, my body fell apart. And with every push, I decayed faster and faster.
But, In my diseased mind, this was the most beautiful thing I ever had because at least he still stayed.
I hated myself when I was alive.
My body ached from exhaustion every day.
I felt loneliness, anxiousness, and more.
Yet with him, all I felt was fear and that was at least better than before.
Though, one day he decided to leave.
My body had decayed to the point of breaking and when all he did was laugh and walk away, I couldn’t hold on any longer.
I woke back up again shortly after. Alive, and choking with every breath I took.
Though I was no longer choking on my own blood, or from the hands of this man.
I was choking with life.
I was choking with love.
And I was choking with hope.
My chest filled with emotion, and my skin was once again was as beautiful as before.
Everything that I had lost, soon came back but ten times stronger.
I was beautiful again, and life was just as more.
I learned now to never trust a man who shakes my broken pieces together so perfectly.
I’ve learned now that I truly fix them myself.
And that is the beauty of when I died.