He opened his hand and he touched me on my face. On the same place he used to touch when he said I was beautiful. He touched me on my face on the very same cheeks his used to kiss and he hit me. Three times.
Three times across my face he wiped away his gentle touch, he hit me. I didn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel it. I was numb. I had an out of body experience when he did that I didn’t feel it he hit somebody else. I cam to tell him that now, finally, now that we both knew that we’d both been bad I could talk to him, like normal people. I could finally talk to him and he didn’t want to listen? WHY WON’T HE LISTEN WHY WON’T HE LISTEN I CAN FINALLY TALK TO HIM HE WILL LISTEN, TO ME.
Like normal people.
I can talk to him now.
He used to touch me everywhere. On my forehead, on my cheeks, on the backs of my neck and my knees. He used to poke and squeeze the bulges on my belly, and he told me that I deserved to be loved all over by any one who wanted to feel me. He taught me that I am beautiful, and wrote it everywhere he touched me but then he folded that same hand and shut my eye with a blue & black manifestation of his hatred. I didn’t feel it. I saw him hit someone but it wasn’t me. He was angry at the world and I was his world but it wasn’t me who’s face his fist landed on. He didn’t.
He did, and I healed but he’d shut my eye so I was to never see him again.