time, my love, and time

she was trained to bend on demand. sugar smiles and fairy dust met with horrors spawned in hell. abusive smiles and tortured grins do her harm, shatter smiles, all the while proclaiming innocence.

and he never.touched.her (but someone did) and it was.never.him (yet she bears the scars). shook her with echoing screams, and it’s his voice she hears in the night, and it’s his touch that causes her to shrink from human contact. and it’s his body that takes hers when it wishes because they’re married, dammit, and married is excuse enough for horrors.

she scolds her mirror image for its imperfections and failed dreams, abusing herself in his name. no longer abuser, he, she can do quite nicely herself. seeking men and men and men and men and men and men … who love her little more than fifteen minutes at a time, in hope.

maybe one day, she can turn from indifference to love, and turn from abuse to consolation, and turn the nightmares to dust.

so she bends, to the ground, scrapes her knees in supplication, and weeps the tears of oceans. and she bends but she.never.quite.broke.

and it’s God’s light that’s her salvation ‘cause tears can dry and nightmares can shatter to dust and white horses are meant not for heroes, but for riding herdamnself into the sunset.

so it’s east to the sunrise, her back to the west and supplication, and the voice of him shouting at her failures, admonishing her wasted years, and misspent youth. the cigarette days and fifteen-minute nights matter not, for they are west of her, and her eyes are east to the sun.

the light is brilliant there, blinding and sweet. oceans of dreams awaken, and the waves lap at her discord, ebbing the pain beneath her feet, and they cry, it is time, and time and time and time and time, and God is watching, and so it is time, and time and time. and finally, she begins to hear.

and it is time my love and time, for your white knight is you. and time, my love, and time, for your salvation is silence. and time, my love, and time, for his voice to still and yours to remain. and time, my love, and time, to hear my voice when you sing your song. and time, my love, and time, to know I made no mistake in you.

earthquakes that ended in broken childhood no longer need reverberate. and it is time, my love, for fairy dreams and dear, sweet peace.

it is time, my love, and time, to love yourself as I do.


  1. moclaylady1@gmail.com says:

    I hope the woman that you love, knows what she’s got. You are something special. Keep writing Bill, I’m still reading.

    1. Thank you. To be honest, there is no such woman at the moment. I have cleared my emotional palate.

  2. amysomday says:

    Thank you Bill, this is so very lovely. Emotional and true of so very many. You made me smile and cry at the same time…not many do that!

  3. Hanno Phenn says:

    Thank you for this wonderful piece of writing I am flabbergasted .

      1. Hanno Phenn says:

        That might be true. I am just a honest Guy with a big heart .

  4. Bob Mills says:

    I despise abuse in any form. It is something I dwell on unfortunately having worked extensively with children who have been the fall out of such relationships.
    I can testify that there are things which go on in marriages which beggar belief sometimes.
    You really do tell it like it is Bill…..And we must all draw our own conclusions. Powerful stuff

  5. Cordelia says:

    Love it. Simple as that.

  6. Carissa says:

    Searing. And beautiful.

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