Seven Times

Seven times.

That’s how many times

it’ll take before they finally

decide to leave.

The first time

she told him to shut up.

I’m not interested

in what you have to say.

The second time

was the first time

he actually hit her

in the face, but they both

blamed it on the drinks.

It was easier to accept

that way.

The third time

she knocked the wind out of him

punched him in the chest

with all the strength

she possessed. As the wind

became wings for the delusions

to help sustain their love,

she promised

it would never happen again.

Four.

He didn’t know that leather

is the gift you give

for the three-year anniversary.

He removed his leather belt,

gave her a lash for each year

they’d pretended to be in love

with each other. The lasting touch

of leather to skin

would keep her from losing track

of what they’d meant to one another.

Five.

She decided to fight back.

She grabbed the knife

she’d hidden

as she anticipated times number

five, six, and seven.

She pulled the knife

but loved him too much

to use it. Delusion

led her to believe

that he loved her too.

After all, they’d been together

so many years that it had to be love,

right? Until the last fight

when she ended up dead.

And delusions weren’t enough

to bring her back from that.

Peace & Love,

Rosalind