The Cracks in Our Foundations

Inspired by this song…. hope you like it. I warn you, it’s quite dark and intense.

The Cracks in Our Foundations

I’m holding on. Really, I am. I’m holding on to those little cracks that appear in the foundations of our already fucked-up relationship.

He hates me. But he loves me. He tells me every day. Right after that last blow hits my left cheek. Always the left cheek. He knows I care too much about my right side. I mean, in some twisted form, that’s quite loving, right?

The other week, he bought a bull-whip. In an effort to “spice things up” in our relationship. God, I hate that. I hate that hurt is his way of making things better. In his twisted mind, pain is a sign of love.

He makes me bleed. I’ve got the scars to show it. Last time we fucked, he entered my arse without even the slightest trickle of lube. I had to go to the emergency room to be treated for fissures.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, he apologised afterwards. He always does.

I hate him. But I love him. I tell him every day. Right after that last blow hits my left cheek. I have to tell him, to comfort him, that weeping pile of man on the ground of my apartment.

He can’t help it. It was something in his past that made him that way. His father, he was abusive to his mother, and he saw it happen so many times. It fucked him up.

I’m begging you, tell me what to do. I don’t know anymore. On the one hand, I’m so fucking in love with him. And he can’t help it. He was made that way. And you can change it back, right?

On the other hand, I’m scared. Scared that one day, it will cost me my life. Or my sanity, whichever comes first.

Kate Nash said it best. My fingertips are holding on to the cracks in our foundations. And I know that I should let go.

But I can’t…



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