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ANNE P LadeeAnne MURRAY

(APRIL,27TH,1944 / POCATELLO, IDAHO)

You Call This Love?


One, cold day in December...
The year was 1996
You walked into my life
Later on, with your kind, blue eyes,
You asked...
'Will you be my wife'?

I didn't listen with my head
My heart did all the talking
Then one day...
You gave the crashing blows
And I sent you walking!

A few days passed
Then, like a fool...
I let you back into my life
You said, you loved me...
After all, I was your wife!


I thought you'd change
Your promise...
Just words said in vain
Then, you hit me in the face
My head, my heart...
Filled up with so much pain


With hands around my neck
You sat, watching me bleed!
Then, you blamed it all on me
But it was you...
Who did the dirty deed


Your love, your heart,
So filled with rage, so mad!
'It's all your fault', you said
You then accused me of being bad!

I need to ask...
'Why did you hurt me so?
With battered faces and unloved spaces
'Why'? I'd truly like to know!

Stripped naked, raw to the bone
Our house, empty of love...
Just a place, that never felt like home

My confidence, slowly feigned
Tears slowly dripping, slowly slipping
Like rain on a windowpane

So many lost and wasted years
So much pain, hurt and tears
Now, I bid you a lonely farewell
One last thing I want you to know
Dammit...
It still hurts like hell!

~

Submitted: Sunday, March 02, 2008
Edited: Tuesday, July 17, 2012

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Comments about this poem (You Call This Love? by ANNE P LadeeAnne MURRAY )

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  • James B. Earley (7/23/2008 9:10:00 PM)

    You are so considerate to have posted this tragic part of your past. Domestic abuse is not gender specific....and happens in the most affluent of homes....the poverty striken.....and all points between. Let us hope that your message will somehow reach those so desperately in need of hearing its voice! (Report) Reply

  • Dawn Slanker (7/17/2008 11:31:00 AM)

    Absolutely love the last line. This is a heart wrenching poem that brought back memories of long ago when my mother and I were both physically abused by her third husband. She had the worst luck with men...bless her soul. I swore, never me and as a result it took 29 years of kissing toads to find my prince. I'm sorry that you and any woman must endure this abuse, but thanks to this poem some women may be empowered by your words and find the strenth to end it. Thanks for sharing this piece of your life with us. Peace and Happiness
    Dawn (Report) Reply

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