*A poem that I wrote about the pain and consequences of a sexual assault.


Lady (She)

She walked barefoot with a silver shimmering lined gown flailing around her ankles, shear and near to the ground.
It hung down from toe to head as she now focuses on the floorboards instead of what she had felt earlier that day.
“In a way that may be better.”
As storm clouds bring in tumultuous weather.

She turns her attention to the window and looks through it’s glass only to see her cracked and broken image in its reflection.
There is only light on the inside.
While the outside is far too dark to peer.
She feels it near, but has no protection of what horrors might lie at the center of her fear.

The tapered drops of rain fall quietly on the windowsill and remind her of her own silent tears that take the same natural course but she is confused if its actually her or the sky.
Is it the reflection or her eye.
Will she repress what’s left and be forced to adjust and trust to just comply?

These questioning thoughts manifest then vanish like the subtle mist created from her warm breath on glass, it never lasts even though she pressed “I loved you” in a heart, it faded faster than she wrote.
She has already been poisoned and has yet to find an antidote.

“The dog barks.”
As she continues to an open space by the apothecary.
She should jump in and let herself drown in the sea that was created by her and is the only thing that will now accept her being.
In an instant she becomes resistant to that dream.

Life can be so cold without the warmth of a blanket to hide in.
She sank in and rides on the waste that is now flowing over.
Her oils slowly float to the edge and emit an unbearable odor.
While the pool changes colors, her gown shimmers a beautiful red.
As she suddenly lays cold against that of the world.

“The dog growls.”
She scowls and is found with her hands draped down as her gown once did.
Overflowing bath water that she confused for her tears or for rain are now and forever stained.
And the dog licks then becomes sick as her sour taste will forever remain.
“Whisper to me.”
What is it like?




Poetry by TheNakedPoet
Read 182 times
Written on 2020-02-20 at 03:32

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