Not the First Spark But the Explosion
His knee is on my chest, and his left hand holds both of mine pinned above my head. And for a second as his eyes meet my wet ones I think he’ll loosen his grip. His mouth comes close to mine, and I think that he’ll remember everything I’ve ever made him feel. I think that I can feel his heart beating in time with my own. I think he must feel it too. He’ll remember that I am already his. He’ll remember that I’m his, and it’s unnecessary to take. Instead his right arm wraps around my waist and flips me onto my stomach. I struggle to pull away without hurting his feelings. I love him deeply. Insatiably. Irrevocably. I want to be able to give him everything he wants. Even when it’s not what I want. And though I pull away my confusion limits my strength. My face buried in the pillow limits my breath. He yanks me from the bed and onto the floor pulling a down comforter with me. It wraps around me straight-jacket like. And even if he wasn’t stronger, I love him. And no one tells you how much harder it is when you want to be able to say yes even though your insides are screaming out to say no. My voice is broken. And my eyes must be too. Because the tears never stop. And I swear I say no. And he swears that I didn’t. All I know is a white blanket wrapped around me holding me down, a wooden floor bracing against me, and an open window sending snowy air into the warm room. All I know is I cry until I vomit. And he strokes my sweaty forehead with confusion etched on his handsome face. His mouth trying to kiss away all of the pain he’s caused me. And I want to run. But terrified and exhausted I sleep in his arms. Terrified and exhausted I wake in his arms. Terrified and exhausted I return over and over. Terrified and exhausted. And I think I’ve forgotten how to sleep now.
#EndTheSilence
Universal
language
under construction
has seldom
been an obstruction
in the blink
of a while I've been
gifted to fill
blanks and lift
the tongue tied
but not
every
time
is one
so lucky
as to unfurl
from the heavens
its half finished
thoughts...
an unresolved
thundercloud
of jumbled letters
is raining doubts
while I am parched
and left without
though I've knocked
and smiled too loud
an outage turns
the alleys back
and the vintage street
keeps its mysteries
locked and latched!
where is the precious
conversion stone
from which we've
learned to read
and infer?
...the albatross
upon the lanyard
around the neck
is gone and in
the absence of a key
the portal to my
understanding
is lost and
blocked
#breakingpoint #challenge