Redux
You as my Lover
acting like you care
You liked to Hover
we made a great pair
But you were a Shover
found out too late
So I ran away for Cover
to escape this fate
Originally published 4/15/2019 on I Write Her. Tried to duplicate here, but the formatting is different from when I initially posted it.
**TW – Story contains elements of domestic abuse
His temper was showing, and I began to believe I’d end up in my grave due to being barren. A plain pine box, I imagine. He was cheap like that. Mason would drop me into the earth (showing no bits of remorse) with a thud. Riddle me this, you brute! What’s valuable and filled with secrets? Now, you can’t hunt for my riches when I’m dead! I had the keys to untold fortunes before you went all ominous on my ass.
I was more angry than scared. Maybe I was just ready for death after all the years of abuse.
Redux
waves of hate
inward and out
years of betrayal
misuse and mishandling
all that is wrong
is not righted
all that has healed
is not pretty
all that is pretty
is a mask we wear
the back side of smiles
hiding the ugly scars
where is the beauty
in you or in me
Originally published 10/27/2018 on I Write Her.
I’d like to thank Joseph Pinto for the inspiration for this piece.
If you’d like, take a moment to read his post Whelve.
invisible drama
not acknowledged
outsiders only see camouflage
but the damage
dispensed from previous generations
lingers deep
self-preservation from the ugliness
slows the hurt
but offers no resolution
only a temporary roadblock
to the pain buried inside
which will surface
eventually…
agitation builds
imposing demonstration
the grandeur is gone
Redux
The injurious are on the prowl.
Instinctively my guard goes up.
Hurling words to pierce the psyche.
Expectedly waiting for more of a beat-down.
Another and another and another.
The taunts ricocheting inside me like a ping-pong ball.
Humiliation the game, the victor, no one.
I feel desperate and alone. I want to cry.
Fear, sadness, and agony achieved.
I don’t know how much longer I can take this!
Bored, looking for the next target to feel superior to.
I’m exhausted from this continued abuse.
I need to push myself over the edge to freedom.
Originally published 7/16/2018 on I Write Her.
The tiny slivers of glass made me blink furiously, the blood flowing freely. It’s scary dealing with this alone. As usual, Richard’s words cut just like the glass he threw at my face. He would probably paint my anxiousness as silly now. Maybe my eyes that he blinded would finally change him? Probably not.
Thankfully, I had the foresight to tape the events of tonight. In secret, of course; otherwise, I wouldn’t see the light of day for years.
I set up a meeting with the police to provide them with this sample of what I usually had to endure.
Wicked minds. Evil deeds. Innocence destroyed.
laying on her side
focusing outside herself
outside the window
at the moon
him on her bed
crushing down
on her youth
babbling incoherently
close to her face
intimate, like she’s his wife
exhaling utterances
laced with beer
scaring this ten year old
into a world
for which she was not equipped
fear gripping every inch of her
‘leave already’ she wishes to herself
not knowing what to do
when he, whom she trusts,
severs the line of decency
*Note – While this was a true event, the child was not raped, thank goodness. However, it left some emotional scars, and trust was broken as certain boundaries were crossed.
beauty means nothing
to those who would use us
satisfaction for their senses
is what they take from us
all used up
then hastily disregarded
not the first time
nor will it be the last
abusers know no different
victims of having been easily trashed too
I Write Her 