Purple is the color of the bruises displayed upon my skin after you have unleashed your wrath upon my flesh and my soul.
I was just thinking about my past relationships and how a good relationship can quickly take a turn for the worst and result in an abusive relationship.
A* used to try to blame me for making him lose his temper to the point that he needed to hurt me, but in retrospect I see that it wasn't me nor what I did. It was his way of taking his frustrations and helplessness out on me.
I used to try not to think about those days. I used to say he didn't really beat me that much but the reality is that he beat me inside his mother's house while his family was home. He would promise that it would never happen again, we'd make up and the next time he got pissed he was putting his hands on me again. He beat me out in the streets on more than one occassion. I remember one night, clear as if it happened yesterday where he beat me up the street from his house and a concerned woman called out the window "Want me to call the police?" I didn't even have sense enough to tell her yes.
No matter how many times I thought I could find a way to continue in a relationship with this man, he would explode and I would be his victim. I gave him nothing but love. Yes, I could be difficult and stubborn but I loved him and in return he beat me.
The final straw was the end of a nice evening we had spent together. I don't think we were even "officially" a couple any more because of the growing problems in our relationship. I can't even remember what lead up to it but next thing I know this m/f had his hands around my neck and he was choking me in a doorway on the corner of Market and Church in San Francisco. I couldn't breathe and the only thought running through my mind was that he was going to kill me right then and there. I was paralysed. For some reason, he finally released me and I stood there dazed and afraid. He finally made me afraid of him. Maybe that was his goal all along.
A frightening write, BJ, with undertones of helplessness and apathy strung within its framwork. And, Felix is right, it is the victim who has to help her or himself in an abusive relationship.
A strong, almost 'disassociative' piece emoted calmly, but which chills the reader, nonetheless.
This is too scary because it is all too real in too many relaionships and it just keeps going on. I said it before we are moving towards a point where this has to be stopped at all costs. Yet unfortunately it is still only the victims that can make the real impact.
A collection of love poetry both relatable and unique.. Poems both joyful, playfu , yearning and romantic. The Poet has exposed his heart and soul in words of love and admiration. Take a journey through the thoughts of a Contempary poet of love. Poet
A book-length psychodynamic study of pathological narcissism, relationships
with abusive narcissists, and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder, using a new vocabulary.
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
A strong, almost 'disassociative' piece emoted calmly, but which chills the reader, nonetheless.
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Felix