Masterpiece

Domestic Violence

Her body is a canvas. Painted
in deep purples, dark blues,
pale yellows, and hunter greens.
Lips scabbed and swollen from
an angry fist.

Eyes are closed in both senses
of the word. Swollen and cut
hidden beneath dark glasses.
Blinded by what she believes is
love.

Long locks are now short and uneven.
Scissors he held to her delicate
neck in a fit of rage. Sparing
her life yet taking so much more.

Belittling words echo in her mind.
No self worth. As he mockingly
dares her to speak her mind. She
would, but her mind was lost long
ago.

Tears stream a childs face as
he hides behind the doorway.
Unnoticed, listening to the
cracks and thuds of his
fathers harsh blows to his
mothers frail body.

For a moment their eyes meet.
Hers almost apologetic, his
wide with fear. An expression
of such sorrow and despair.

His tiny hand reaches out for her
but she's unable to grasp it as
she falls into unconsciousness and
draws in her last breath.

The canvas was full, the painting
finished. What a masterpiece he
created.