by Bb. Maria Klara
Maybe something about us is in black and white;
I see something worth keeping after every fight.
Yet there are so many colors when it is just us,
Still I figured this love was one I could trust.
There were droplets of blood; a remarkable red
At first sight, I couldn’t get it out of my head.
Open wounds were quite rare, usually from the gums.
I didn’t believe them when they said you were scum.
Most times, my sight’s misty, at least tears are clear.
Your raised voice sets me on edge, and worse when you’re near.
For so long I’m unsure about which feelings are valid
And I dreaded each time you might say that you’ve had it.
I avoid the infection, look away from the yellow--
Because I have to be ready when you say hello.
Every time, I tell myself that this isn’t the worst,
That it’s just a rough patch, and this love isn’t cursed.
Sometimes I do wonder if there is a more green,
On another side of this life I just haven’t seen?
But I’ve chosen and in this bed made I’ll lay
With you and ride it out today and everyday.
I stuck with you even though I always feel blue
Even if you were proving what everyone knew.
Love is blind and sometimes you made me just that
At least just your hands, and not a baseball bat.
My skin was then a canvas of all violets
Bruises of all shades you placed since I let
The belief that this was your love language
Get the best of me and now I can’t manage.
When your vision is darkened and clouded in black,
There is no more resisting the vicious attack.
Now I learned to anticipate the wrath of the storm
And the little resistance of my feminine form.
But nothing compares to the coming of white
And my physique does the opposite of fight.
I guess it’s a need ingrained in the flesh,
No matter how long ago, the memory is fresh.
It turns out the last thing we were was black and white,
Took me too long to see that it wasn’t alright.
Now the colors all painted a picture I can see,
You are the most horrible, wicked man to me.