He Loved Me by Cath Campbell

I am not a silent poet

The first time he loved me
was in the park down the road
from me mam’s.
It was a kiss of a different kind,
one that left a bruise
on me cheek.
I love you so much, he said
as he wiped our eyes
with his thumb,
I’ll marry you. I’ll be yours.
We’ll be happy and in love,
forever.
The next time was after we wed,
in a fancy hotel suite
in Scarborough.
I wore long sleeves that week.
Even though it was hot,
I was cold.
He loved me a lot, after that.
He said so, every time,
and he cried.
The last time he loved me
was in the kitchen by the door.
I couldn’t breath.
And as the light faded, a thought
so clear it shocked me
to the core.
I didn’t want to be loved by him
Anymore.

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