And I Know…

I hear his footsteps coming towards me and I know…
The words he is saying
The rules he is laying down
The fears I am betraying

…it’s not right

I see him in the dark before me and I know…
She does not make a sound
As his fist takes its first pound
And knocks me to the ground

…it’s not right

I smell him as he lowers towards me and I know…
This time won’t be because of drink
Inside myself I start to slink
I must go where I cannot think

…it’s not right

I feel his arms around me and I know…
How many cracks are in the ceiling above
Not to ever resist or push becomes shove
Only open my mouth for the depth of his love

…it’s not right

I taste more than tears on me and I know…
All the lies I’ll contrive
The pleasure he derives
In taunting “Why you still alive?”

…it’s not right

My senses overload when he leaves and I know…
When a fourteen-year-old is no longer sad
Cannot be so bothered to be mad
When ordered to coo “Goodnight Dad”

…it’s not right

10 thoughts on “And I Know…

  1. The songlike composition here is protective wall (or staightjacket) for all the ferocious encounters with an old beast. It’s a terrifyingly smooth read which should follow aggressors into their graves.

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