Domestic Bliss
held down by the whole
squad, face in the dirt
being kicked in the head
flashes of light disjointed
comments and vomit
making itself known, a threat
that comes to choke me
to the very death
a feeling so thickly present when
I'm with you
being told that you only want me
to be happy and
that you are not happy as if
in my experience being happy
is a concrete thing that
is real, listen,
all the best i can hope for is
to not be in the kind of pain
that I actually deserve,
you want to go with this one
and then another
and use passion to stab me
in the face
so hard not to become something
worse than what I already
am inside
I have swum in oceans
have seen castles
been victorious
i have been loved
and strongly
admired, perhaps
and now
discarded, ignored
but still pitied
as though the lights
and wine were
not real and the dull sadness
is.
this is your gift to me,
our broken children
your contempt
our squalor
what does not kill me
won't make me stronger
just makes me live longer
with a face full of dirt
and a broken tooth on
my tongue.
Copyright © Paul Love | Year Posted 2019
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