Paul Bell

Guilt

Her dress was torn to shreds

Knickers, like her nylons also torn and scattered

The bruises on her back told her what she knew

Dried in dirt in her nails just enforced the night in question

The shower didn’t clean

Guilt did that 

She slept the sleep of demons

Dark thoughts mocking her entire being

The morning presented the day ahead

Immaculate on the outside

Her presence in entering causing fear

Hated and admired in equal measure

High-powered decisions made

Lives changed forever

She could feel her body tight up against the tree

Felt the excitement as he forced himself inside her

Blood began to seep through her blouse 

As the tree bark bit into her breasts

Pleasure, punishment, pain

No more than she deserved

The shower didn’t clean

The blood, the dirt, the guilt, life

It didn’t clean at all.

Comments3

  • Neville


    I really dig this Paul .. reminds me of something I have written about on numerous occasions over many years .. guilt really can tear you apart, can't it .. Neville

    • Paul Bell

      I changed your poem, Neville. lol

    • Rozina

      Phew!

      • Paul Bell

        She'll run the country one day, or the forestry commission.

      • Goldfinch60

        Powerful words Paul, guilt can be so overwhelming.

        Andy

        • Paul Bell

          It sure can.



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