At His Hands

My vision goes black.

Not all at once, but as if my eyes are controlled by a dimmer switch.

And this asshole is turning the lights off on me.

But not with a switch.

Big hands wrapped around my throat.

Squeezing. Choking. Suffocating.

Hands that are strong and tough.

Hands immune to my futile attempts to pry them off my neck.

Hands shaking with anger and hatred as they squeeze the life out of me.

Hands that once touched me with love and tenderness.

Hands that belong to my dad.

Hands that belong to my first love.

Hands that belong to the father of my child.

Hands that belong to my husband.

Hands that belong to my son.

Hands that belong to my boyfriend.

Hands that belong to the next man who will love me.

I quit struggling, it's pointless.

He is bigger and stronger and more determined.

I've always known my smart mouth

And an angry man

Are a volatile combination.

I've always known a man I loved

Would be the death of me.