Naked Truths

It starts slow.

They never show their full intention in the beginning.

They hide behind the guise of a good man,

a good woman,

a great fucking person.

They love dump and bring you up on this pedestal of acceptance and comfort.

They begin to feel like the home you never had growing up.

It'll never happen again.

Those words echo in your mind when you find yourself a year later,

his hands wrapped around your throat.

The concept of no,

the boundary now completely gone.

You don't know exactly when it happened or how,

but your no's went from an absolute,

to a discussion,

to a "fuck you".

You never saw it coming.

You recall that he used to hold you as you poured your heart out,

telling him all the ways you've been hurt.

The way their fists left a story in your skin.

He kissed the scars on your arms and you felt seen.

Understood.

Loved.

Then he took your communication,

your autonomy,

your fucking soul and you are left lying awake at night terrified of any sounds or movement from him.

You hold your ragdoll bones tighter in the dark,

hoping that it'll keep you together.

It won't.

It never will.