She Didnt Understand

The wounds and bruises against her skin were painted blue and black, this was the art of what he called love. She didn't understand that the blue and the black painted on her skin was not an excuse for what he called love. She didn't understand that her body was not his canvas. He was good with words always whispering in her ear as he gently nestled his nose against her neck, “  I do this because I love you.” She didn't understand that, that the phrase I love You shouldn't be used as an excuse for pain, and that the blue and black was not art. She didn't understand that red roses  and milk  chocolate could not fix what he called masterpieces marked against her skin. She didn't understand that love didn't mean, beer bottles chasing her face.

She didn't understand that love didn't mean pain

That the deep romantic attachment didn't involve his fists clashing with her cheek.

She didn't understand that the relationship would become grey and the light her eyes would fade just because he loved her that much.

She never painted his Canvas.

She never caused him pain.

But yet in her mind he did this in the name of love.