Just a Cliche

There is a light in her eye,
That, after we’re home, dies.
During the day, it’s all just play.
I understand why, in theory.
My heart just can make sense of the scene.

It’s an old cliché,
We’ve all seen or done before.
He hurts her, and she just can’t deal.
It is just another sad, never-ending wheel.

Some coddle her, ignore her, or sneer.
I tried to be gentle, but there were just more tears,
So I choose the tough love gear.

Lift a gate, pass the door.
Why do the abused just go back for more?
Not even the very words
From his own mouth
Can convince.

I watch, I hope as I am able,
And I see her die a little more each day.
Then it happens
Her worst nightmare
The ultimate proof
His heart lies elsewhere.
She’d always known,
Deep down perhaps,
That it’d end this way.

Finally, her soul is calm,
Her mind at ease, the turmoil – gone
And she’s pleased,
Curious as to why her mind
Had not wandered here before.

And just as she slips into sleep –
The best she’s had in so long –
I open the door and find her there,
Her heart beat nearly gone.

A gently touch to a clean shoulder,
Water sloshes, eyes crack open.
And with the barest of whispers,
She begs me, “Please just let me go.”

My tears fall as I grip my sister’s hand,
And watch with morbid fascination
As the water bleeds red.