The black of my mascara has fallen in stream with my tears,
Accenting the purple stains of exhaustion in the soft creases beneath my eyes.
You left me with black and blue in my soul,
And raw pains in my throat with every whisper that dares pass my broken teeth.
My knees have scars from the oh -too-many times I fell and begged for you.
With stern compassion, the ground ripped thorns into my thighs and rocked its stones against my bones,
Until I learned that the only way to heal was to stand on my own supple feet.
My hands were calloused from trying to hold on for so long.
My muscles had been crying out, enervated from the constant toil of carrying you along.
Cramps streamed through my legs and arms, until I finally had to drop you on the sand.
Yet, you say I threw you into the water to drown.
You say my fists were thrown at you,
But we both know damn well that these tender scabs along my knuckles were given to me by none other than the kisses of your ruler.
The blood stains left behind are drops of crimson from my broken lips.
My teeth dug deep into the flesh to keep back words I should’ve said long ago.
It wasn’t only in the bedroom when you choked the cries from my throat,
And while the imprints of your fingers still lay heavy on my neck,
You continue to throw accusations like sharpened rocks.
Through it all, I tried to entwine my hand with your harsh claws,
But you would only grasp my wrist when I was pulling you back from the deep end.
Those same waves that dragged your ankles,
Caressed my face of grief.
My tears were replaced with the salt of the ocean,
Pushing cool water against my cuts and bruises.
Now, it isn’t your greedy nails that run through my hair,
But the wind which whips the golden streams to the sky,
Lifting my chin ever so slightly, so I can enjoy my own sunrise.