the end was born of something quiet and violent
there was no raised hand of violence
though there was a gnashing of teeth
some split skin
trembling hands

the end was born of something quiet and violent
all those moments when you’d seek to quiet me
grab my knee under the table
deny my presence because I’ve been to loud, too friendly
shun me in the same bed

the end was born of something quiet and violent
cruel words and crueler comparisons
begging me to stay when I tried to leave
only to cut me down as quick as you can
love that came with whiplash

the end was born of something quiet and violent
and it lingers in me still