He stroked tangles into her once luscious mane,
and peppered it in the muted hues of time.
He smoothed the years across her brow
and etched his hate
within her blunt laughter lines.
He left a thesis of his dysfunction written between the grains of her invalid groin
and ringed the spoils of her scars in red ink.
He left her skin bare of kisses, of love,
of exploration or pleasure
he tamed the primal beast
he groomed her into silence
then gave her a mirror
See? Then grinned menacingly.
He stroked tangles into her once luscious mane…
Karen Hayward © 2019
Image via Google search.
I realise, a day will fall upon me
when I will splinter, fracture, dismantle
fray away my torn edges and be free
of the darkness within, and I will see.
The moon’s slither is my solace of thought
only she has seen what lays behind lost eyes
A beacon within the vast emptiness
a bearer of secrets, a trust forever sought.
Her love is unconditional I speak she listens
Tears wept in the yearned for silence of night,
crumbling, retched belief less glistened
where once the fires of hell had risen.
When danmed the touch was at least honest, true
no pretence within the battle cries,
T’is true, I’ve known love never, less too
and trusted even fewer then few.
But hope is a single ray of light in dark
and one day beneath a field of stars
She will turn, to him, a friend and love
and whisper, let me tell you of these scars…
…and I realise that one day I will fall apart
reveal the dark…
Karen Hayward ©2019
Image via Google search