When you bruise her skin I will feel it.
As she smooths concealer over herself to hide your marks, my own will wash away. You cannot hide what you have done, for I carry the weight of every harsh word and firm grip under the first layer of my skin. It remains as an armour to protect myself and those I love from men like you who use smooth words to cover the actions of their forceful hands.
I know you think you're safe because she believes your lies, consumed by your promise of 'accidents’ and ‘never again’ you assume your sins have been washed away with the closing of her lips.
Do not think we are all that naive. She is tied to everyone she has ever loved, and we will always see her bruises, we will always feel her pain.
As you whisper the words 'overreacting’ and ‘dramatic' into the ears of those friends still blind enough to tighten around you, believe me when I say you could raise an army of blind believers but I will know the truth. If I only take one lesson from all my years at Sunday school let it be this... the truth will always come out, you will always be accountable for your actions.
So sit there smug if you will, sink amongst the flood of your lies whilst we pull her out of your stagnant waters. For we will pull her to the surface again and again, until you realise you cannot fight love with pain. And when the water runs clear out of the eyes of your blind believers, when their stares burn through your façade each time you approach the women in their lives, and you find yourself alone.
Know this, in that moment when you touched her, when the force of your hands broke her skin, you did not take her power, you gave up your individualism. Lumped together with all the other 'woman bashers' you stripped yourself of the title of man, and no matter how hard you scrub it is a label you can never wash clean.