Not Afraid

Screams bounce off the tilted paintings on the walls.
Fingers jab hurtful words at hurting chests.
Faults and blames counter each other's assault.
But somehow it's always her fault.
She said, "I'm not afraid of your anger."

Broken trusts slices at broken hearts.
Voices stomp on fragmented tears.
Slurred cussing followed home again.
It's her fault that he had a bad day.
She said, "I'm not afraid of your blame."

Mornings wake to yesterday's forgotten.
It didn't happen.
Words washed away like chipped cutlery.
Yet the red in her eyes, the sobs in her throat: still there.
She said, "I'm not afraid of your mood swings."

Clothes thrown askew on the front lawn.
Suitcase half packed, half demolished.
Tired of his violence, tired of the cycle.
He doesn't deserve her home, doors locked.
She said, "I'm not afraid of you."