She's
Broken.
Defeated.

You can tell by the way
she tilts her pale chin,
scarred from years of abuse,
up just a little bit too far
to be believable.

You can tell by the way
her thin lips quiver violently
as she curls her shoulders
into her ribcage when
he calls her name.

"Lucille!"

You can tell by the way
fear briefly flashes across
her otherwise lifeless, verdant eyes
before she clears all emotion
from them and runs to him.

You can tell by the way
she tightens her body as if
preparing for an incoming blow
and cowers like a frightened pup
the moment she reaches his side.

You can tell by the way
she stands there silently,
body shuddering slightly as the
tears stream down her face
as his fists pound into her.

You can tell by the way
that she cries so quietly
as she examines the bruises
while cleansing water pours over her
as she sits on the shower floor.

You can tell by the way
that she never tries to
stand up for herself
or make a break
while he sleeps.

She's
Broken.
Defeated.