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wretched memory

i can feel your revolting
hands
on my shoulders again.

i can feel my face
forcibly pressed
into pillows again.

i can feel
the burning fear
in my stomach.

i can feel the
choked screams
straining my throat.

I feel your
rancid tequila breath
on my neck

whispering
be quiet.
be quiet.
be quiet.

I want to die.

Author notes

J.F.

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Comments


  • FloridaGatorQueen silver member
    August 4

    Edit | Reply
    Whoa!!! Man this poem had my eyes bugging out. i hope this is not real life you speak of here. The descriptiveness was awesome. I enjoyed the read!!! Thank you for entering my contest.