POISON
I saw the signs. From your actions and inactions. Words- spoken and unspoken. I felt it too. Those times I held my breath because something as simple as breath could trigger you. I felt it in every insult I received from you. Every punch. I saw the signs, but I didn't leave. You were perfect to be left and I was deformed. You made me feel less. I actually was less. I was less pretty. Less intelligent. Less human. This was why I felt honoured to be called yours. Because you chose me even in my deformed state. Like Christ chose us, though we're unworthy. Those advising me to leave you wouldn't understand. Or perhaps they envied me and wanted to have you. They wouldn't understand how much you loved me. For how often does a man as busy as you make out time to hit someone into becoming better? I understood that you needed me to be better those times you hit me. For like clay, I had to be melted before moulded. You are my potter and I, your clay. You assured me you loved