0215_2246

He wants to talk
He's drunk and slurring his words
And he is making sure I know how fat I am
And he's punctuated one out burst with a closed fist to my upper left arm
And when the bruise appears he will have no recollection of it.
He will insinuate I have a lover
He will insinuate I am playing at BDSM
My BDSM lovers never hit me with closed fists or in anger
They never ever struck me in rage
He does and he thinks nothing of it.
He'll wake up and maybe he'll remember
Doesn't matter. I don't care.
I'm sad because I feel powerless to leave.
He will not leave