The Trophy on his Shelf.

So many things you claim to be

An empath

Someone considerate, compassionate

Loyal and trustworthy

Someone she needs to be with

Because no one else

Could treat her the way

Only you could

With admiration

Worship and love

As you claim to be

One of the good guys

The type of guy

All woman need.

 

She falls

Head over heels

Consumed by sweet words

Subtle manipulations

Disguised as gestures that put

Those other men to shame.

 

You make her aware

Of her reflection

That broken and damaged self

She sees

In the mirror.

A loving whisper

Filled with conviction

That you can fix her.

She submits

Because she loves you

She lets you mold her

Believing

That she is broken

That you know better

That you can fix her.

 

Now the woman you claimed

Is beautiful, well-spoken

Glittering in expensive jewels

Polished like the trophy

She is to resemble

Repaired from that broken image

She once used to be.

But within her

Sorrow consumes her

For voice was silenced

Her spirit tamed

An empty shell

Of her former self.

Though in your eyes

She is a trophy

To be displayed and cherished

A trophy

That tells the world

How good a man you are

To treat your wife with such love.

 

~ Greywatcher

 

 

 

 

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