He was raging in the night
while I was bent in fear.
Fists were clenched and clothes were drenched
in perspiration.
Fists were clenched, the knuckles white.
Their teeth would spit my dear
down, strike down, strike down my dear.

Love was in his magic. I
was in his image. He
took my legs that I would crawl
in desperation.
I had not the wings to fly
away, to carry me
far away, away from me.

He was falling in the night
while I was prone in fear
down upon me. Hands were clasped
in supplication.
Hands were clasped with all his might
around a love so dear.
Scream to breathe, to breathe my dear.

Love was understanding. He
was then relenting. I
breathed again, again, again
in resignation.