Painful Arithmetic
How do I love thee?
Let me count thy ways
12 for The number of scrapes I have from your regular practice
of carving initials into my endoderm.
your fingernails scrape my wrist with my blood as your ink
my veins make sinuous trails on the surface of my skin
from the engraved letters K.R. all the way to my cardiovascular organs
Possession
is your greatest trait
11. the minutes I spend applying makeup in the broken mirror each morning.
Making up that I am happy.
my eyes shadowing the meaning behind my fat lip
Concealing the disoriented screams
Highlighting the highs and dismissing the lows
aligning the lies you’ve told me with the truth
10 O’clock every night you strip me of my dignity.
You recklessly peel the layers off my skin
And violently force your devilish ideals into the depths of my mind
Leaving me to redress myself in my own guilt
9. family members and friends that I am forbidden to see.
They’ve called I bet, but you accidentally, carefully, expertly
drowned my phone in a sea of regret
8 the number of times I repeat in fetal position
You are all I need.
You’re all I need
You’re all I need.
You’re all I need.
You’re all I need.
You’re all I need.
You’re all I need.
You’re all I need.
A mantra that will temporarily burn my previously carefree memories
-7 minutes in hell.
I pray earnestly for heaven.
I’m hiding in the closet alone shaking because I know you’re home
Sounds.
The floorboard squeaks.
I can’t tell the difference between the beat of my heart
and the pounding on the door.
6 is the number of times you’ve apologized for the coldest threats.
“I won’t do it again, baby.”
“I don’t know what got into me, darling”
“I’ll change, sweetie pie”
“I just had a bad day, love bug”
-5 the seconds it takes for your mood to swing
From proud to jealous
Angry to apologetic
Wild to poetic
Who are you, really?
-4 thousand women die each year due to domestic violence
-3 times I’ve tried to leave, but you wouldn’t let me go
-2 ribs you broke.
Adam gave one rib up, but you want twice as much.
You want all of me.
You want all of me and more.
-1 flat line is all I need for this to end.
0-the power you have over me.
On a crumpled note I wrote with blood, your favorite colored ink and
My favorite Elizabeth Browning poem.
(At least I’m sentimental)
“I shall but love thee better after death.”