His Tragedy

My tragedy is that he never loved me

He being all men

Or rather every man that has ever called me “baby”

Every man that has ever held my attention,

The ones I paused to consider with my forgiving heart

This is my tragedy:

He wasn’t sweet to me

My preferences weren’t considered

Either he fucked too fast or 

Was such a bore that I couldn’t bring myself to fake a moan for his masculinity 

He didn’t choke me when I wanted to be choked

Didn’t put his hands in my hair and tug just the right amount

He didn’t cuddle me as I slept,

his broad chest didn’t call me home to safety

when I awoke

He was rough with his hands when he was angry

Cruel with his words

when one cruel comment broke me

My tragedy is that I have always been alone

Even when my body was claimed by him

Even when I loved him just because I needed to love

Needed to feel something for somebody

To escape the emptiness of my existence 

So much so that I didn’t run when he hit me

Didn’t leave when he admitted that I wasn’t pretty enough

Skinny enough

Quiet enough

My tragedy is that men have failed me

That loving him never lifted me up

Beautiful though I am,

Strong in my story…

He wasn’t able to keep me from being kind

From smiling at him…

He couldn’t steal me away from myself

Radiant in laughter,

I’m alive though he surely tried to kill me. 

His tragedy being that he did not pause to love me. 

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