My Poor Eye

This is the tale of my poor eye,
shining with blood, defiant, dry.
In a darkened room, a clunk of heat
increases my shivers, love's defeat.

His jutting knuckles, bruised and raw,
'Dirty bitch, slut, whore.'
Howling wind, shattering rain,
towering above my crouching frame.

Foaming mouth, gaping hole,
blackened heart, darkened soul.
Punch, kick, hurt, maim,
his growing hate on me he'd blame.

The broken heart in his father's chest,
ashes to ashes, laid to rest,
'All your fault, bastard, fool,
deceitful, selfish, violent, cruel.'

Young and innocent, only a boy,
gummy smile, remorse, destroy.
He said these tales he'd never seek,
but I knew that moment, that night, that week.

'I'm not really like him' he said, he lied,
'He hurt me all over' he cried and he cried,
Never meant to hurt me, just knew he could,
'It's because I love you, for your own good.'

Battering pain travels my spine,
'Oh my darling, you're mine, you're mine.'
Tears, regret, him on his knees,
'Forgive me sweetheart, please, please.'

My bloody limbs all silent and still,
he gave me some water, a pillow, a pill.
'You know you'll feel better, no need to tell,
the past's the past, no need to dwell.'

This is the tale of my poor eye,
shining with blood, defiant, dry.
In a darkened room, a clunk of heat,
my coldness spreads, love's defeat.