‘It’s my skin,’ she said,

But he still shook his head.

Did she not understand

The risk entailed? Once the

Fine pale surface was broken,

There was no going back.

The permanency of a foreign body

Worming its way beneath

Her flesh - this he could not 

Permit. For her own good.


Though he paid no heed

To the multicoloured rings

And patterns that each faded

From their blacks to purples

And yellows: the colours of queens,

Left on her skin. Day in,

Day out. His temporary

Exertions, her permanent

Memory. To him,

For her own good.

domestic abusedomestic violencewomenwomens rights

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Stu Buck

Tue 8th Mar 2016 13:25

very nice. clever use of the tattoo as a reflection. he seems pitiful.

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Laura Taylor

Tue 8th Mar 2016 11:13


Really well put together piece - poignant, poetic, pointing out so subtly the control of him over her. Been there, done that, bought the bloody shop.

Thank you for giving her a voice.

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