Hot Breath In A Cold Room

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.

Invisible

Photo by James Sutton on Pexels.com

my love for you…

is written on my face
but you can’t seem to read me

emanates with intensity
but you are immune to feeling me

is expressed with every syllable
but you don’t know how to hear me

is right in front of you
but you are unable to see me

i must not be enough

Covering

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Joy feels like exposure to the harshest elements.
In showing it you become a pawn
in the game of advantage
like taken of that is.

Allowing happiness to make an appearance,
well, that’s just a sin.
“Be humble, accept things with grace,” they said.
As they shushed my feelings out of jealousy.

Feeling like a kernel doubling in size,
well, that’s just ruinous.
“Let’s not have a grandiose, public display,” they said.
As they swatted my butt out of anger.

Having intensity acknowledged on the surface,
well, that’s just suicide.
“Behave yourself!” they said.
As they locked me away with a pious vengeance.

Where did it ever get me to give a voice
to what bubbles up happy tears and excitement?
Hide your feelings, stomp them down reactions was all I ever got.
Because no one really wanted to meet the real me.

At The Heart Of It

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the calamity
weighed down
forcing
the innards
out

revealing
wounds
unleashing
the crying girl
in the corner

where she’d long
swallowed
the grief
fear and shame
the lakes of tears

the eruption
of emotions
expanding
her chest cavity
burgeoning

so much
pain
pain
pain
and more pain

murky depths
led
to the dark matter
filling
the hole within

the rage
agitated hate
the injustice
trapped
and bubbling

the fear of implosion
imminent
the voices
of the past
scolding

an excruciating wait
for the release
from
this
hell

Broken From Birth

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the anger in youth
is palpable
truth met with silence
acceptance non-existent

the anger in relationships
continues on in years
one failure after the other
blame with shame

the anger at oneself
clung to for so long
it’s sickening
it’s heart-breaking

… it’s got to change

 

The Moon Shone

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If only the window would break
so I could fall away
from this midnight distress
of heavy breathing
laden with bourbon

If only I was not petrified
of what could
happen next
of what might
be my agony

If only this man
kept his hands
and his mutterings
of his wife’s failings
to himself

If only I was bigger
stronger
less frightened
when his hand clamped
down on me so hard

If only I was older
and knew what to do
beyond shaking
smiling glazed
and going numb

If only the moon
didn’t highlight
the deed
whitewash the evil
occurring below

If only the moon could save me