Possessive kind of love

He walked out of the mini mart to pump the gas. They weren’t married, not yet. Had she been more aware, who knows? He was noticing a man paying attention to her and it angered him. He became enraged at her, mumbled some foul words as he got behind the wheel and sped off, as if her beauty that attracted men was her fault, or a curse. This would become her norm, his insecurities that devoured him and she was his obsession.

Paranoia…

The engagement happened as she imagined. Her regret was sharing the fantasy of what it looked like and he replicated it like a script. His lack of originality disappointed her and this would continue throughout their marriage. Years passed by as their growing family blessed her and filled her heart and fed the emptiness, while he spiraled into the darkness unable to manage his jealousy, he began to demean her.

Stuck…

Tainted by his weaknesses she would seek attention that didn’t make her skin crawl and even welcome the kindness of strangers, but she remained faithful in body. His control was killing her and eventually she revolted, acting upon her impulses she thought would take her away from the insanity, but it only made things worse.

Disrespect…

She was a mother first and a woman with needs second. She could no longer ignore her desire to feel special, wanted and yearned for. Her affair she was told would be considered retaliatory. A lady’s innate need for protection and be given provision for his object of affection became clouded by that deep power of possession. He began to oppress her femininity solely for himself. Suspicious of her every move, she knew of his prior infidelities, despised his addictions and loathed the sight of him.

Severed…

Five years would pass. He walked into her experience, self proclaimed he was damaged goods, but she just smiled. The discarding began early on, only after his love bombing and idealizing of her cemented her heart with his. The insidious cycle of his abuse took her deep inside herself. Hiding in the depths of her own bewilderment and confusion, she knew he had taken possession of her.

Blindsided…

Trapped again under another’s control, she felt the demise, the assassination of her character, her soul at large, spirit on the run, how would she break free of this bondage? Too frightened to leave and terrified to stay, she found solace in her voiceless existence.

Shattered…

Bruised by his marks of ownership, ashamed for her lack of strength, value and self worth, she began to examine her life, asking herself why she couldn’t escape the torment of the ties that bound her, until the night she did.

Freedom…

Shame no longer has a place to hide

She is no ones possession of love

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️