Between Bruises & Blooms

Everyone blamed the darkness.

They said,
“The devil made you do it.”

But the devil never raised his voice
in our kitchen.

He never turned love
into a weapon.

He never taught me
to apologize
for wounds
I didn’t create.

It wasn’t some ancient evil
wearing your face.

It was you.

Your choices.

Your silence.

Your anger.

Your hands.

People sleep easier
when monsters have horns.

It’s harder to admit
they sometimes wear
a wedding ring,
a familiar smile,
or the face
of someone you trusted.

So no—

I won’t give the devil
credit
for what belonged
to you.

Because healing began
the moment
I stopped calling abuse
a supernatural mystery…

and started calling it
by your name.