the stockholm syndrome

the guard,
as she chains you up
onto the wall,
says here, let me turn
the light on for you,
get you a glass of water.
then she
strikes you
on the knees with a club.
threatens you with
leaving you alone in
the dark if you
say another word
against her.
she
gives you a crust of bread,
she reads
to you from charlotte's web,
before you
pass out
from fear and fatigue.
but you take these crumbs
as a sign
of hope.
that maybe, just maybe
she isn't as bad as you know
she is.
that deep inside
there is a human being worthy
of love
and companionship.
she puts her make up on,
her lipstick, brushes
her hair out
and gets dressed.
she smiles as she stretches
your arms
out on the rack,
your legs, pulls
at your hair, your soul.
bites you on the neck.
she doles out
as much pain as you can
stand,
then she kisses you goodnight,
and says sleep tight,
don't let the bed bugs
bite.