My husband.

Torn,
Bruised,
Battered,
I lay at YOUR feet.
You have my blood on YOUR hands.
I bow in pathetic suplication before your cruelty
And beg simply to be loved.
I know you for the coward you are
But in your cowardice I love you.
You were also broken n the rock of the world,
An Icarus to your dreams.
You have laid so much of yourself
On the bitter ashes
At the alter of life.
You are a burnt sacrifice,
For dead gods to consume.
Now I am the sacrifice,
To your biterness and rage.
With you I am broken,
With out you I am lost.