Stupor Of You
Yesterday you made me cry
but you didn’t seem to understand-
what your words did to me.
They amputate through me
and cleave heavy to my chest-
harsher than any other abuse
you have put me through.
Today I chase my hands along my bruised cheek
and gaze at the reflection of a submissive woman.
Some battles are won while others go on
long after the warrior returns home.
You are a maverick in a world laden-
with dreams and lately anything I say
seems to guide you over the edge.
I watch the window and listen
to make sure he is not coming back.
I remember when youth’s hands-
explored and taught each other
how to feel more than malice.
Now when he touches me
I paralyse myself to everything
but my breathing.
I crawl to my room and creep beneath my covers
and fall into the darkness of my life.
I dream it’s almost over before-
I feel his hands on my skin
and I come back to live each day
all over again.
Yesterday you made me cry . . .
