Eyes dry slowly
as she falls asleep.
Stiffened tears
on swollen cheeks.
Tattered love
torn apart.
Those hard hands
break her heart.
Drifting softly,
she starts to dream.
Just to be woken
by her own scream.
Come again,
hurt her more.
Her poor heart
is yet to be sore.
A brave face,
with scared eyes.
Every time he strikes,
she dies.
Does he know?
Can he see her tears?
Or does he cover them up
because of his own fears?
Maybe he doesn't care,
Maybe he's killed his dove,
Maybe he doesn't dare,
Maybe he doesn't love.
She does,
all the time.
Her heart is wide open
with his name in mind.
She'd die for him,
and she does.
She'd surely do anything
in this game called love.
Author notes
It's actually a verbal abuse and it's no where near as bad as the poem makes it seem. This is just how it came out.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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nice, kinda dark eh? havent spoken in a while. I've gotten busy over at allphil, but now that schools out i'll try to catch up here
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hey girl!....sorry it has taken me to long to read some of your new poems...but ive just been so busy with work and school lately...but anywayz...this one is great...great rhyming and it all flows well...talk to ya laterz...bye bye
Cyndi -
This is such a sad poem. Verbal abuse is still abuse and made worse by the fact people don't take it seriously. I liked your use of alliteration here, for example, 'hard hands'. This was a very powerful poem
Pozo
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