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Confusing his love for oppression,
I find myself fighting back-
With a wrath, I raise my fists-
As anger and hurt take over.

Of the past and of the present,
I throw myself at this image-
The ones who once hurt me.

One face, many features.

The eyes of my first love,
with the lips of my second.

A familiar smirk,
That of my third,
And raised eyebrows like my fourth.

All these men, who controlled me...

In uncontrolling ways-
Who dangled me from strings
And played as puppeteers.

I once fought so hard,
For love that was not there.

Now I let love slip through my fingers,
And drip to the floor.

I stomp on his heart,
and crush his spirit-

This man I call my soul-mate.

Abused by the men of my past,
My hurt is taken out on him.

This man,
Who I once sobbed openly,
With a broken heart, for-

When I believed there was no hope.
What has happened to this love?

Once so fresh and new,
Turned mature and fulfilling,
Yet I only feel suffocation...
How does one get love back?