Behind the Door

With fury at my heels, I struggle up the stairs seeking sanctuary behind the bolted door. Fists banging against the wall demanding entry threatening………..always threatening. A mirror on the wall reveals all to familiar drops of blood trickling down from my swollen lip. Cold water splashes over my tear stained face as I contemplate how to deal with this living, breathing nightmare. How sad this is our life. Vows made, promises forgotten, two hearts who once loved, two souls intertwined now hostel adversaries in a battle for some kind of empty, meaningless supremacy. I shift my aching body knowing the physical wounds will eventually heal. The brutal assault to my self-worth and wellbeing, however, will leave scars that will stay rooted in me for lifetime. Sitting on the floor against the door with no conception of time all is quiet now. My thoughts stray to tomorrow. It has become darkly amusing how empty apologies ill-fated promises and day old flowers keep me subdued in this personal hell. I have come to know the routine well. Shame on you for treating me this way. Shame on me for allowing it.