Sometimes, I throw caution to the wind. I find the worst in others and infect myself with it, most of the time my body just absorbs all those awful things but some days I am not as fortunate. I watched those I loved hurt me and I did nothing in retort. When he hit me, I did nothing, not out of fear but out of love. Hurting him, hurt me more than his actions did. Letting him cut me and tear me apart was more of a theurapudic process than a painful one. Bruises, no matter how black and blue they were, amounted to nothing in comparison to the ones on his heart. It wasn't until he killed me that I came to learn:
love should not hurt me like his hands do.