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Honeymoon Phase
Facades of Bliss and the Cycle of Violence
A breath of fresh air
While trapped in a coffin
A sweet disposition
Seen less and less often
A wonderful match
At least to their faces
So when his mask slips
They still sing his praises
A tender caress
Tooth-rattling smack
A rose-colored promise
Another attack
Once delicate flower
Crushed by vicious hand
Unraveled, now lonely
All part of his plan
A smoldering gaze
Aimed at other women
Now people ask why
On Earth you stayed with him
In public, a joy
In private, a terror
The violence is over
The haunting’s forever
I’m So Glad You’re Here
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About the Creator
Veronica Wren
Trauma sucks. Recovery shouldn't. Subscribe here for your FREE exclusive guided journal
❤️🩹 bio.link/veronicawren ❤️🩹
Domestic Abuse & CPTSD Recovery Coach
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Message Me Afterwards
>That was a bad idea. I thought you knew… >Oh, the pathos! I don’t really know you as well as I should. In fact, I may not know the real you at all. That essential, sparkling you that you only reveal to a select few. Had I been paying more attention to the stories you are so fond of telling, in which you are invariably author, narrator and protagonist, I would not have been so foolish as to set you up on a blind date. After all, no friend has ever done anything of the kind for another. That’s preposterous. What is a friend, really?
By D. J. Reddalla day ago in Fiction
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