Your skin wears thin, white against your knuckles
you’ve grown accustomed to fists
you welcome the bruises and purple, black eyes
kicks are hugs
shoves are kisses
a few broken ribs are special treats
the metal taste of blood in your mouth
rusted and sour
your teeth chipped and missing 
your legs broken and your heart smashed against the linoleum like a rotting plum
if this is love, you’ll accept whatever you’re given