July 29th 

Sciliy, Italy 

Seven 

 your hands grip tight around my wrists

too tight
your chest hovers inches above mine
too close
every choking gasp rings in my ears
too loud
you collapse onto me as you finish
too hot
the doorknob rattles as you enter again
too soon
night after night after night
too much 

by Leyla via www.hellopoetry.com 

He grabs her by the arm. 

His strength press into the soft abused flesh. 

She gasped, it was so unexpected. His harsh touch such an unwelcoming surprise to hos quick angry blows. 

He pulls her to her feet, fingers digging into skin, leaving the marks of his possession. 

She does not scream. She knows better than to scream. She refuses to titillate his spirit, give him the satisfaction of her terror. 

"Did you hear them?" He asks her, his breath his her lips and she tastes the poison in his system. Strong, Pungent.  "Did you hear them laughing at me?" 

She does not respond. Of course, she heard them, they prepared her for this, for him.  

"All because you couldn't do one simple job" He spits his accusation in her face, harsh with abandon. 

He pushes her, harshly with force, towards their marital bed. The soft comforters break her fall, he is behind her in an instant. 

His finger encloses around the nape of her neck, he pushes her face into the material. She gasps as her lungs are denied oxygen. He pulls her up and with anger and hatred, her face his graced with a blow so hard it cuts her lips. 

She falls to the side and she hit her head. The world sways and she is disoriented but she could still feel him. 

She hears the zipper, feels his hands on her thighs batting them apart. His fingers find her knickers and with force, he rips them from her. 

Her mind wasn't prepared for this side of him. Her body rebels against her rules and she tries to close her legs as a scream echo through the room. 

She is shoved onto the bed, her cheek stings as his palm make contact with her face. He held her in place, as he removes his belt and unzips his trousers. 

Her body fights this, not this, not again. She pushed his face away, claws at his immaculate skin. Her shrill cries ring through the room but the walls do not open up and no hero leaps out on his white horse. 

He holds her there.  One hand around her neck, the necks holding her thighs down. 

With meaning, he thrusts. 

She bows her back and bellowed. 

Fire races along her skin and explodes. 

He pulls out and thrust harder. 

Her womanhood cries out in agony. 

Her soul shatters. 

She goes limp, she minds leaves her body. She is no more. 

The fight has died. 

The defiance has submitted.