Mermaid

Pearlescent, almost ethereal she lay,
Dark hair pooling around her shoulders;
Slight like silver birch or willow;
Skin pale and perfect as a dove.

She looked like a mermaid he’d said
That first day they’d met in the rain,
Struggling with a pile of library books;
Damp hair whipping in her face.

Tea in a non-descript café
With chintzy cups and chipped plates,
Scones with cream and raspberry jam
As red as blood. Her blood.

She’d cried the first time he’d hurt her,
That innocent, sunny afternoon
Sobbed that hers that would never return;
She’d blossomed as his teeth drew blood.

Her patterned duvet soaked up the tears
The first time he’d promised to make her scream;
Piles of dusty books and dirty plates
Offset the midnight leather, dark against her pale skin.

Philosophy blended with sodomy that fall,
He made her read de Sade and believe
Bound and blind in her university room.
He’d take her finger from her shaking hand.

She feared and cherished his whippings,
The marks he left adorning her body
For days at a time when she was good;
He made her beg him to hurt her.

Pearlescent, almost ethereal she lay,
Dark hair pooling around her shoulders;
Slight like silver birch or willow;
Skin pale and perfect as a dove,
Streaked with marks as red as blood.