Leaving in Peace

I am not leaving you because I am weak,

I am leaving you because I want to LIVE!!

I am trying to remember what I saw in you, but with a bloody eye and a head concussion, it is a difficult thing to do.

It was you, who used to call me in the morning and afternoon, and even at midnight too.

It was you who used to wait for me on my way to the cold room, under the bright light of the moon, when Mother sends me to get fresh fish for food.

It was you, who said, as roses are red and violets are blue, so will your love always remain true.

We got married in two thousand and two, and you became a monster after baby number two.

My body changed, and I added a few pounds, and you began spending long nights at the city lounge, letting half-naked girls give you a lap dance.

My food was once your first choice but has now become one that you hate and won’t touch.

You have grown a distaste for the soups you once used to give high rates. It is either too salty, too watery, or I am serving it too late.

You used to love my body in the past years. You were ever so near, singing to my ears;

“Sweet figure eight, nothing to hate. You are fair and bright, no stretch marks, no cellulite. You are my light. Rita, you are my sweetheart. If I don’t marry you, I will never be alright”.

All lies!

Where are you now? In a hotel room, romping with a girl I could have borne from my womb.

I am a bad wife and living the wrong life because I don’t know how to twerk or to work it on the bed.

You scream, “You are just so fat! Get out of my sight!”

The first time you slapped me, I tasted blood and fled the day you picked up a rod. You closed the door and descended on me with blows and demeaning words.

Your brutal blows hurt me to my bones, but my heart shattered to several pieces when I saw our children cry.

After a day or two, you went down on your knees and promised from that day on, you would no longer be mean.

We had a fight, and you shattered glass and stabbed me in my side. The fights today, the fights tomorrow, only bring me further sorrow.

Now, I realize that you lied when you went down on your knees and vowed that the day you hit me again is the day that you will die.

You shoved me and my head hit the wall. I fell to the floor…oh Lord. There was so much blood.

I woke up in a hospital bed, with my mother holding my hand. It is time to pack my bags. But will Dad take me back? I should have listened when he said marrying you was a bad plan.

Waking up in hospital beds, bandaged limb to limb. Broken bones and a broken nose, I am tired of all these and God knows!

I don’t know if you will change,

I don’t know if leaving you will lead to disgrace.

But, one thing I know, is that the next time you hit me, maybe the day I breathe my last breath.

I am Leaving in Peace, not because I am weak, but because I don’t want my case to end in Rest in Peace.