And when it is over
The pain, the tearing the swearing
What he does that he said he would do only in love o baby never hurt you
hurt you inside you will never want again but you do you want it you like it
Yes he loves and his love means that no has no currency
but, too, her "yes" he has filed under "whore"
punishable offences both
As he breaks open what he says he loves above all things
When it is over
And he is drunk with the ambrosia of power-over
and she the empty vessel from which he sated his thirst
She cries and she hides; her tears will enrage him and he will tell her his truth
he will tell her what she wanted, what she liked
And he will make her agree so she hides
And his arms enfold her tight, so tight o baby I won't let you go don't try
She falls asleep in her jail
Screams lost in Sweet dreams in her bed of betrayal
Only in love he said, and she dreams her confusion- Can one love in raw, cruel annihilation?
In dreams he loves her o baby you know I do
And she should have known How to stop throwing down the gauntlet to his authority
In dreams she is stupid o bitch you never learn do you
Her punishment is just; complaint is not the privilege of one such as she
She dreams Of morning.
And she forgets
She has woken and the dream is no dream
And today tormentor is lover O baby I won't let you go I know what you want
She ponders the significance of same words in 2 contexts
Her silence is her shield-the captor must never be called by his name o bitch come on I dare you to remember. she reads his demeanour but
my sweetheart, my darling, she says and he responds in kind
and her survival cemented in their utterances
his deeds buried under his guise o baby love you never hurt you
along with her coffee she swallows her self-loathing
Casts away from herself her womanhood; that which he tears up at the roots
It is not he who has wronged the woman but the woman who was wrong
Her pride, purity, sensuality, strength, her self
that which he hates but yet owns o bitch I will show you what I do to a mind that would presume choice fuck you
to a demeanour which would presume dignity
to a body which would presume wanton invitation to all brothers
I will teach you
And she has learned
And he knows it; he knows and he glories and he says no words but he knows
and she knows; her space is thick with promise;
the ghastly tatters of the night and of future nights hang humidly between them go on bitch, say something I dare you.
But she carefully constructs her hello face for the world that it should never know her shame;
not for her outrage, concern, rescue; no; she has made her bed
And in it she lays with he who loves
And she loves and she works her mind at whittling away word and deed.
Sees and sneers at her histrionic streak
"Rape" is redefined, reduced.
Relieved, she can say, "that is not me, not him".
the concept "crime" is banished from her lexicography of woundedness. Derealized, deadened
and she smilingly answers the door and she wipes her memory clean of..... (breath tearing swearing hurt) swats it away as one does a persistent insect... not me not him .not..real rape...terrible not him
No no no don't think don't feel but I forget I forgive I forget and I love
and she turns plaster-of-paris features to him
And In his arms she is enfolded once more. o baby love you never hurt you
the word is made flesh and the flesh, prison into which she is lovingly locked
He takes her seventh cigarette away and replaces it with his lips. kissing and she can feel that he wants to fuck her/love her
her chameleon mind takes
his view as hers
hers is not to question but to believe
And he covers her
And she lets him
And she gags her crying core spreads her bruised thighs offers up her ravaged womanhood her heart
she tries not to let her eyes, as swollen as him betray her
accepts what looks the same in love and hate
feels the same in tenderness and hurt
and she likes it....likes it... accommodates...you want it....wanted it
he knows what girls like her want
always o baby I will make you cum you want me
and he loves
and she loves
her anaesthesia complete
Into her trousseau she packs the brokenness of her reality.
All lovers will come to know
that she likes what she does not like
wants what she does not want.
Loves what hates and hates what loves.
This will be her future dowry.
She has nothing else to give.