Violence In A Bottle

The smell of your hair,
the beauty of your smile.
The infection of deceit,
the feeling of denial.

The touch of your hand,
the gracefulness in your walk.
Depression whisks me away
from all the bullshit you talked.

The color of your eyes,
the sound of your breathing.
Your rapture of lies,
my heart, seizing.

The protection of your arms,
the structure of your body.
The raise of you hand, caused alarm.
For, I know what comes next.
Me, on the floor, bloody.

The comfort from your hugs,
the feeling that I’m loved.
Thrown against the wall,
then down the stairs I fall.
Yet, I was shoved.

The thought of your sweet kiss,
and your warm embrace, leave me in a trance.
”Are you alright miss?”
I hear over the ambulance.

The happiness in your face
on our wedding day.
”Are you going to press charges?”
I hear the policeman say.

All I can see are the bright surgeon lights.
He comes and hugs me
with all his might.
Telling me he’s sorry and
that it’ll all be all right.

But as he lets me go,
he whispers in my ear.
That he’ll kill me
if I tell them what I know.
I cry in fear.

I start to scream for dear life.
He tries, then, to choke me.
But the policeman saved me.
For I will no longer be,
this man’s wife.

He was sentenced to life in jail.
He pretended to cry in court.
”Just another alcoholic male.”
I overheard the judge say.

Through the evidence they sort,
they found him guilty.
They carried him while he struggled.
Handcuffed and yelling
will be my last memory of him.

If I were to have stayed in my silence
there would’ve only been more pain.
For this proves that the only thing
that comes from the bottle,
is alcohol-induced violence.