We started off so happy.
but then again thats how we always started off.
things got tough, it seemed "my mouth" always got in the way.
"your fist" always fixed that.
why couldn't being with you mean being happy.
Instead being with you meant broken bones.
there were nights when you came home and I could tell what kind of mood you were in.
just by the way you closed the door.
Nights were I would pray you'd just, leave me sleeping instead of waking me up just to smack me around.
At times i thought about leaving, but I loved you so much, thinking you loved me to.. I stayed with you.
being with you never meant being safe.
being with you meant broken bones.
I was asked what the reason was behind my bruises, I never replied, but you made sure to tell people "I was clumsy" " I feel down".
Those hundreds of trips to the doctors because I "tripped" on my face and busted my lip.
Being with you meant 36 stitches.
being with you meant broken bones.
It got so bad that at times I would keep myself from school not only paralyzed from pain but paralyzed with fear.
" I never shut my mouth" you always said so your solution.. push her down the stairs
So you did.
I broke 3 ribs but I still didn't learn huh?
You felt the need to beat me repeatedly with a solid lead pipe until I lay damn near lifeless on the ground.
Being with you meant broken bones.
I had realized at that point that it was time to get out and I did.
and I never let myself go back to you. I picked myself back up and moved on.
My stitches have healed and my broken bones have mended.
And now the only thing left to do is say goodbye.
Never again will Love mean broken bones
