Brown-eyed Broken Dolls

An unexpected friendship. She used to call me every night while he slept. My ex was her current. My scars were faded while hers were fresh. He made a habbit to beat the beauty out of a woman. Thankfully I had escaped, but would she?

Single red roses on anniversaries. Serenading "Brown Eyed Girl". Original love poems. His gentle caress. This was the side of him that lured us in like a stranger in a white van with candy.

Broken promises. Angry words. Bursts of violence. This was the side of him he hid from the rest of the world and saved just for us.

She knew my pain and I knew hers. We used to cry together into the phone. I wanted to save her although I had barely gotten out alive myself. I thought she wanted my help. Maybe she just wanted me to listen. Maybe she just needed to know that it wasn't her fault like he claimed it was because it had all happened to me too. We never even met face to face yet I had a closeness to her I didn't have with anyone else.

Then the phone calls stopped. Is she okay? I stayed awake at night imagining the worst because he was capable of the deepest kind of darkness. Years passed but I still carried a piece of her in my heart. If I prayed hard enough would they reach her? What if he took all the best parts of her until nothing was left? Maybe she was truly gone.

She was. I was. We still are his brown-eyed broken dolls.