Untitled Poem #1

Arterial spray
painting the walls
crimson red
as he stares
hands to throat
trying to hold back the tide.
The first time he hit me
I might have deserved it
for my mouth was running at large.
The second
third
fourth time
there were no excuses I could find.
Soon
nightmare that never ended
for there were no clues
nothing I could avoid
to keep him from beating me.
I tried
each and every time
calm
placate him
it was never enough.
Bathed in his blood
laying on the floor
I wearily slide to the floor
one nightmare is over
does another now begin?
Oct. 12/18
Photo by Soragrit Wongsa on Unsplash