I try to smile when you say you love me.

When you say you'll dress me with stars,

Clothe me in a blanket of sky.

I try to smile as as I feel your nimble fingers skim across my skin

Feeling every fold and depression on it,

As if you were a sculpture, and it, your clay-

And you meant to paint me with your colours.

Mould me to your liking.

I try to smile as you begin to scratch me, gouge me,

As I feel red trickling along my body.

As you undress me without asking.

Without taking into consideration- my wants.

Am I an object of your desire?

Should I not scream when you grasp my neck-

and bite it?

I try to smile when your frothy lips lick my skin.

When your moaning mouth gnaws my legs.

When your wanting fingers tear my arms.

And I try to shrug you off me.

But I can't.

Because you are my husband, and you reign over me.

Over my useless body, my exhausted soul.

Because you're a man, and I an object.

And hence my elements must bend to your will.

I try to smile.

And you don't let me.