How many times...

A poem about domestic violence. 

How many times had I told myself he would change?
How many times had I told myself he was stressed by work?
That he didn’t mean to hurt me.
To be unkind.

I’m a professional woman.
I’m not someone you can easily walk all over.
I’m not supposed to be intimidated by men.
So why do I let him treat me as he does.

It’s something I have asked myself multiple times.
It’s something I just don’t understand.
He hits me, but not where the bruises show.
He’s too clever for that.

I can hide them and do.
Why do I do that?
I really don’t want to know.
I really don’t.