behind door 202

trigger warning: domestic violence and assault

the hand that picked me up

at my lowest point is the same hand

that struck me to the ground

the same hands

that held me close at night

that wrapped me

in their gentle embrace

and made me feel safe

for the first time

are the same hands

that had me against a wall

by my neck, terrified

to move

or think

or fight back

the same hand that held mine

on car trips and in movie theaters

is the same hand leaving marks on my face

the same hands

the same lips

that kissed me gently

in the morning

healing the traumas my body

has known with every tender kiss

washing your love over every inch of me

these same lips

spit in my face and called me worthless

saying words so low

I couldn’t even think to say them if I tried

these lips hold a smile so bright

and a laugh so genuine that my heart

melts every time I think of them

I can’t even comprehend your actions

completely simply because

I don’t that kind of venom in my heart

a hole through our bedroom door

our bedroom door

quickly patched and painted

easy enough to fix

but the patch work is always visible

reminding me of this dark side of you

we built an entire life together, brick by brick

our trust and love and understanding

of one another, all within these walls

behind door 202.

this was our chance for peace and calm

this was our safe space, together

and you ruined it

how do I reconcile these two forms of you

how do I rationalize in my head

that these are not different people

but one in the same.

they seem too different to occupy the same vessel

a moment of numbness

another memory to process with my therapist.

written by Gaige Robinson | @gaige_robinson

Photo by Gaige Robinson

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