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Painting

Junior Year

By Olivia langleyPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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I have been in two abusive relationships

I realized my first love was abusive not the second but the third time he hit me.

His fist closed so gently it didnt seem like he was gonna hit me. His hands were always so soft, so warm and comforting

I knew them

I knew every crevice of his hands

Every line

Every hair

Like the back of my own

I have held them so many times before than

He used to do this thing where he'd tell me everything was fine after he did it

He would pick me up off the floor and take me to my couch

He was just so comfortable

He'd take my head in his hands and tell me I was okay

I didn't realize until third time

We were by the river and I was painting

I haven't painted since

I hadn't painted in a long time

He came up to me and held me around my waist

I giggled and went back to painting

I took his hands off

He put them back on

I stepped on his shoes and noticed he was getting annoyed

Black vans with little hearts I drew in the white part

He hasn't worn them since

I turned around and he swung

He knocked me unconscious

He picked me up and put me on a blanket

He cradled my head and gave me the rest of his water

I told him I wanted to break up

And he swung again

I haven't painted since

The second time I realized was when I went to break up with him

"If we break up, I'm gonna kill myself."

It took me months

Months

Weeks

Days

Hours

It was three months into our empty sayings, in our empty hugs, affection

And I stayed with him

All the fights

The screaming matches

The punches

The throwing

All of it

It was five months until I broke up with him

When I did

He swung

I haven't painted since

My second abusive relationship only lasted three weeks

He told me loved me, what he didn’t tell me was the empty words behind the loving face

What he didn’t tell me was the empty hugs, the empty kiss, the empty love was a facade for his family to think he was fine

He wasn’t fine

I wasn’t fine

For the second time that year

“If you break up with me, I’m going to kill myself”

The words ringing motionless in my mind like my favorite song on repeat on the radio until

I don’t like it anymore

“You’re worthless”

Is how he told me he loved me,

At least that’s what I told myself

“You dumb slut”

Was how he told me he cares

He slept with other women because we were “open” and I was fine but in reality I was the furthest from fine

In that short three weeks

I painted words over my body in my own blood and sunset made of all red

He told me it made him happy to have that much dominance of me

I haven’t painted since

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Olivia langley

Hi I’m olivia and my hobbies include lookings at dogs, petting dogs, music, and writing. I mostly write about bad things and experiences so I apologize in advance

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