jacquize

HURT

Whisky and cigarettes hanging stale in the air. The putrid stench of your all-nighter stings my nostrils.

The gentleman's mask slips from your narcissistic face as you laugh like an evil clown to a frightened child.

Your hand that used to fit mine like a glove is now wrapped around my neck choking the life from my bruised body.

Like an unwanted pillow I'm thrown from the bed, hair torn from my scalp, my face colliding with your size ten boots.

 

I lie still now, no fighting back. Giving up on life, on love. Welcoming solitude and loneliness with open bloody arms...

Comments3

  • alleycat

    Thanks i totally understand writeing heals in ways speaking cant

  • BRIAN & ANGELA

  • BRIAN & ANGELA

    WELCOME JACQUI - Hurting poems like your make me ashamed to be a MALE. As your haunting poem sates Men can be "Gentle" one minute and "Rough as Hell" the next - mocking - choking - bruising the one the professed to love. I have never abused a Lady and I hope I never will. I am pleased it is cathartic for you to share - and by caring I can share some of your angst ! Thanks BRIAN



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