The first time, there was no fight,
not a wrong or a right.
It had stung just a bit,
no punch, just a little hit.
Not a drop of blood or a mark,
but rather a swoop in the dark.
I wanted to ask you to stop
I could hear the echo of that pop
but the words wouldn’t come out
not a peep or a shout.
I sat in shock,
as I took another knock.
You smiled while you stared at my pain,
with an expression I could only describe as insane.
In your showing of dominance
you gained a sick, twisted confidence.
I think you saw that for you I was always weak
using your power in your hand sweeping across my cheek.
When I finally did said no,
you convinced me you weren't testing the limits that you could go.
“It was just play,
I would never treat you that way.
I’m not one of those guys,
I love you, look into my eyes.”
And with those words it falsely made sense,
our love just seemed so intense.
You justified it so well,
I was completely under your spell.
Convinced abuse could never happen to me,
I only saw what you wanted me to see.
But then once more you decided I should get hurt
and this one caused me to drunkenly blurt.
“He hit me!” I cried,
a deliberate attack to your pride.
I thought maybe you would come to a public realization
as you had warned me about telling others in a conversation.
But despite my tearful plea,
“He wouldn’t do that,” I heard everyone agree.
“It’s not mistreatment,
just another of their disagreements.”
And I understand why no one got involved,
with our constant fighting, everyone assumed it would soon be solved.
Anyway, you were going to leave,
surely I would get over it, I would not grieve.
And even before you left I seemed to already be moving on,
however the damage you caused was far from gone.
And soon everyone easily forgot,
so alone I built myself up, l healed and I fought.
It took me some time to find strength,
but now I can write this poem at great length.
I want to tell you that I didn’t want everyone’s pity,
I didn’t want to trash your name in this city.
I had just wanted someone to tell you it was wrong,
that you’re behavior didn’t prove you were strong.
But now I can say it on my own, knowing that I am more mature and grown.
I’m telling you it’s obvious and you should have known:
whether a playful slap
or a fist, or a bat
you never hit a female,
no excuse and there doesn’t need to be any detail.
What you are is abusive
so when you find that your way of showing “love” isn’t healthy or conducive,
I have some good advice that is direct:
show women more respect.