Silent Tears

He brings her flowers, but not her favorite kind,

She offers her flesh, blamed for bones she hides inside.

He calls her each night, but never seeks her mind,

And when she's upset, it's only her face he minds.

He says he loves her, but not in the way she likes,

He’ll fight with, but never for her, despite.

She’ll say no once, and he won’t ask twice,

He sleeps through the night while she counts sheep, restless in her plight.

He shouts and turns his back, oblivious to her pain,

Yet she loves him still, though love for a woman can be a deadly chain.

He lives by society's rules, while she cries for choice and ease,

Who knows if he loves her, or if it's just because of what he did?

He wants control in her decisions, so she won’t be his burden to bear,

More concerned with why she didn’t tell him, less with her despair.

He says he loves her, but with conditions set tight,

Loves her only when she conforms to his version of right.

Not when she's herself, with her kind of dreams for life,

Laughing, joking, living freely, escaping inner strife.

He misses her sorrow, her discomfort unseen,

But brings her gifts, and now fool she thinks, he’s keen.

He threatens to tell her father, wielding fear as his might,

And as a girl, she should just smile, accept his kind gestures,

Be as he says, pressured by societal lectures.

He’s part of the crowd she wants to flee,

But she’s trapped, knowing she can’t be free.

If the world turns against her, she'll find him on their side,

Leaving her alone, with her battles to bide.

She’ll hear “told you so,” echoing in her ears,

Doubting if he was the one turning all against her fears.

For women are made to live in silent tears.

To be “the Sati Savitri,” with no past, no scar,

To conform, to endure, to never stray far.