The month of June is recognized as LGBTQ+ pride month. In light of this, I chose to write a poem about domestic violence cases that are a serious, yet neglected problem. According to the National Violence Against Women survey, 21.5 percent of men and 35.4 percent of women living with a same-sex partner experienced intimate-partner physical violence in their lifetimes.
He had never been in love before
Being only at the young age of twenty four.
If only he would’ve known
That love isn’t supposed to cut to the bone
Maybe his inevitable fate
Would have come at a different date.
The day he met his supposed true love
This man was still as pure as a dove
His porcelain skin hadn’t bared a bruise
You wouldn’t find a scape, no matter how much you might peruse.
Then the other man came along
Standing there, looking proud and strong
Promising the world and then some
Making the porcelain boy’s heart beat like a drum.
At first it was like a paradise:
Sugar and spice and everything nice.
Then the first of the blows struck
Hitting the porcelain boy like a truck
He bent but didn’t break
Although it made his heart ache
“Love is supposed to be this way,” he thought
He used this excuse every time they fought.
No matter how many hits he took
Or how many times the house shook
From angry words spit
This man refused to admit
He was in a place of abuse
And no one could save him, not even the almighty Zeus.
Every night he crawled into bed
Counting the new places he had bled
Trying to figure out why
True love was supposed to make you cry.
Day after day things only got worse
But the porcelain boy didn’t see it as a curse
Until one night he found himself bleeding on the floor
Begging for it to stop; he couldn’t take anymore.
The abuser took a moment to think
But his punches quickly got back into sync
With each weakening yelp
From the man in desperate need of help.
When the end came to worst beating of all
The porcelain boy had nothing else to do but bawl
He had finally been broken
But this remained unspoken.
Already so close to death
He decided to finish the job and take his last breath
Searching until he found a bottle of pills
Swallowing a handful; the idea of death no longer gave him chills.
Tonight was the night another victim fell
When something supposedly beautiful turned into hell.
