She was with everyone and yet alone.

she had stayed with him throughout, she knew letting him be alone wasn’t an option. Funny in all these years she had never felt trapped. But now she did. She wanted to move away. His smell, his love, his touch, his ego, his being.. that she pampered so much was now strangling her. His touch had turned violent, his love into unending doubt, his poetry into blaring blame lyrics.

Every day was a challenge, every night a dreaded space. On a fabric of time where everyday use to be filled with soft subtle hues, red now ruled.

She remembers her efforts to miss a blow, her struggle to get out of his grip, her claustrophobia that surrounded her with his every breath. She remembered the broken window panes and mirrors that shattered in the struggle.

All was coming back to her as walked through the hallways of the majestic house, she once called home. And then when she was about to take her final turn she saw the scratch at the door….

the only visible witness of his struggle, struggle to get out of her trap.. that had marked the end of their love.