I accept your slaps.
the wounds that you cause,
the sleep you don't allow me to sleep,
the little scratches
and the deep cuts, I accept.
I understand your reasons
and your wishes.
I understand that you kill me
and that you do it very well.
I accept that you throw stones at me,
throw knives at me,
throw snakes at me.
All day, I accept your tests of me.
I accept that you will always be angry.
I feel more love from one who thrusts a thorn in me
than from one who brings me a dead rose.