Purple Passion
Your lover lets anger slip his grip,
using his leather belt as a whip.
And then tries to kiss your bloody lip,
oblivious to the tears that drip.
You skirt the edge of danger each day,
but lack the courage to run away.
For he makes it clear, you are to stay,
as fear navigates through love's decay.
Sex gets wrapped in a blanket of pain,
and it's scary when he acts insane.
For he's a drunk, and he won't abstain,
while treating you with complete disdain.
Nothing about him shows he’s caring,
he's a bully, yelling and swearing.
And he isn't much into sharing,
you only own the clothes you're wearing.
A scoundrel, lacking all compassion,
he leaves your body bruised and ashen.
Yet, calling you his purple passion,
he swears he loves you; in his fashion.
(Rhyme)
9/8/2017
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2017
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