Enduring Love.

She pushed down the few remaining clothes into her case

And closed the lid.

She stood then –

In this room which had seen so much for so long

And looked about her.

Nothing left then.

Nothing to leave behind.

Nothing to reflect the pain she`d felt

Physical and mental

After years of abuse by the man she loved.

Or once loved!

Heart finally hardened.

No more.

Not this time.

He had melted her heart with his baby blue eyes

Tear brimmed

Lips trembling.

“I`m sorry!”

“I love you. It won`t happen again!”

“Forgive me.”  ---

And she would.

At first it seemed genuine.

The remorse.

The tears.

The bunch of pathetic flowers which accompanied his pleadings.

She forgave him.

Again and again.

Forgave the bruises and did her best to cover them up.

“Why are you wearing long sleeves in this weather?”

Forgave the whiskey nights when he would quarrel with his own shadow

And she became his punch-bag  when no one else provided.

Forgave the infidelities

Walking in to find him half undressed.

A door slamming  --

Hurriedly,

And perfume lingering in the air.

Forgave the gambling,

The owing money,

The being dragged across the floor by her hair and flung down the fire escape

Into the rain .

Hard, cold metal on bare skin.

The Police had come out once.

One New Years Eve he`d just “erupted”

And fearful of her safety

The neighbours called,  and they came.

But she had already gone,

Slipped past the lashing hands into the icy January night.

No coat on.

Thin shoes.

To walk the streets of London

In a blank

Dark

Daze.

Embarrassed when the Police Car stopped and asked was she O. K ?

Was everything all right at home?

They`d take her home.

Get in.

Not safe to walk the streets at night.

Not safe.

Not safe !

Safer than her home.

Safer away from home.

From him.

But she`d returned.

Not because she`d nowhere else to go

But because she loved him.

She needed him.

What would she do without him!

What a fool.

She had endured so much sadness from that man.

He had stripped her of her pride.

Her being.

She had reduced herself to accommodate his moods.

To survive.

She had endured to survive!

But survive she did!

And now she wanted to live again.

“Whatever doesn`t kill you makes you stronger!”

And she was stronger.

Strong enough to leave.

Now.

For good .

This time.

She straightened up and picked up her suitcase.

She walked down the stairs

Out into the fresh evening air.

She closed the door

And didn`t look back.   

Jan Wharton