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Deb Jones Sep 2019
You rocked me,
Sliding your leg between mine
Danced with me
You made my world move

Like a fault line
Beneath our feet
Spreading slowly to swallow me

You made love to me
In your bed
My shivers of pleasure
Followed the path your hand led

Like an open fissure
Fault lines on the floor
Getting wider, I feel its pull

I shattered with pleasure
And yet you refused to stop
You wanted to see how far
You could take me

While I felt your small pants
Of breath tickling my ear
Taking me away from my silly fears
Still dancing with me

Yet, I had fault lines in my heart
Worlds and words apart

I cherished you
I still do

Can I say it’s me not you?
Can I use that old cliche?
What a well used platitude

Fault lines...
Deb Jones Sep 2019
Sometimes words can be empty
Useless, flippantly or carelessly cruel.
They can never be truly forgotten
Or forgiven if it is focused on you
Although the one that caused the pain
Will forget the words in minutes.
We tell ourselves that we will let go too.
But, we remember the words
That cut into our heart.
It entered through
That ***** that is never completely closed Because its narrow opening
Is constantly searching for light
And happiness.
Because of these careless words
Our very psyche, our spirit is damaged.
It causes us to doubt ourselves.
To search our heart for hidden faultlines
It’s hard to bite our tongue
Tell someone to just stop.
Just stop.
Right at the point they open their mouth And you see their tongue move to utter something that will live in your heart.
In that moment.
Just to be able to say stop
And have no repercussions.
How much kinder the world would be
Deb Jones Aug 2019
As I crawled away
I could hear you crying
The hitch of your breath
As you tried to make sense
Of something senseless

I stopped  
And started crawling to you
Like every other time
Blood dripping down my chin

I wrapped my arms around you
To comfort you
I said I needed to go to the hospital
You had kicked me in the temple again

We quickly came up with
An improbable story
One that had nothing to do with reality

Our hospital was small
Everyone knew me by name
I could feel their eyes on me
Tracing the bruises shaped
like boot prints on my back

They called the police
But I wouldn’t talk
Just looked away as they offered
Empty promises of protecting me

I frustrated them
I swallowed my words
You sat in the car
Waiting for me
Holding our child

And you were the only family I had

Do you want to know why
I finally ran?

We were in the car
And I changed the radio station
And you...

Oh, so casually said
I was going to get it
when we got home

There was none
Of the uncontrollable rage
That I pinned my ideals on
That I was saving you from

We got home an hour later
And you methodically
Closed all the drapes

Hit me a few times while I stood
Against the wall in the kitchen
Ground zero for most of my pain

Your heart wasn’t in it
Your eyes not enraged
Just distant
Everything was perfunctory
Each of us playing out
Our assigned roles

Seven years
For seven years
I molded and created a monster
While you, just a boy
Lost your morale compass

I tried to save you
While drowning myself

I was a little girl
when I married you
The way children do

There was no down time
I was hypervigilant
Exhausted, trying to keep up
With your mercurial ways

Punishing myself for a simple
Forgetful moment that set you off

I wasn’t allowed to read
While you were around
You tore the last chapters from my books
That was the greatest injustice of all.
Funny, isn’t it?

All the physical, mental and ****** abuse
It was my escapism I missed most
You were jealous of anything that I did
That wasn’t about you.

I had to go to bed when you did
Even when my mom and sisters visited and waited in the other room

If I could slide out of bed
Without waking you
I felt accomplished

If you woke I had to stifle the cries
As you buried your hand
Deep in my hair
Shaking me like a stuffed animal
For daring to disturb you

Why did my mom allow that?
The one time I went to her
She sent me back to you
Saying it was my bed to lay in
When it was really her
That first put on the clean sheets

Marrying me at fourteen
To a boy of nineteen
One I only knew a week

To liberate me from foster care
Where I may have been safer
Emancipated from the courts
A woman the moment
My beloved mom signed me away

You showed me your gun
Waving it around
Empty threats of retribution
As I made empty promises
To love you forever

You wouldn’t shoot me
I wouldn’t give you a reason to

I feel melancholy when I think
Of that little girl

I accept what I allowed
There were so many
terrible things you did
But I was the catalyst
Some part of me still
Holds that belief

You were never punished
You skate through life
Your moral compass
In pieces beneath your feet

Because, because? Why not?
The victims you leave
Harbor your secrets
Scared to say things out loud
Scared of you

Most of all scared
Of how others would measure us

So all the times I crawled towards you
All the times you cried
Became our self imposed roles
When I should have left the first time you hit me

I remember it vividly
Standing outside against the wall
Of your brother’s house
As you slapped me again and again

I had never been hit
Like that before
The shock of it all
You trying to make me agree
With you
That I was looking too long at your brother

No answer was ever good enough

When I ran
I ran so fast
And so sudden
Along my preplanned route

The almost debilitating fear
I had to overcome
Running towards my future

You did find me.
It was the last time I was hospitalized
And the worst time
Because of you

Found unconscious
During a welfare check by my neighbors

I protected you.
I survived you

I loved you

At the same time I pointed you towards your own future
I feel sick to my stomach when I think of you.

But our son grew up
To be a honorable man
Strong and proud
And I did that.
Without you
I did that.

He was worth that seven years
Can you understand?
Deb Jones Jul 2019
In the Spring time I take some chalks, charcoal and go to a particular park
One day I heard peals of laughter and turned to see that

A young  boy swinging so high that the chains buckle a little at the height of the arc.  

I am sure he feels that he is ruler of all he  sees.
His toes touching the sky

He seems to float for a beat, and then there’s a stiff **** as he falls
back under the influence of the rusted metal links, back into the steady tempo of forward and back.

I watch him as he chooses  to fly high again, gaining momentum with his legs
I would like to tell him not to go so high  

But I remember when I was young that I would swing until I caught the snap of the swing chains

I remember what a powerful feeling it is. I remember that feeling oh, so well

Instead I quickly drew him on the swing.

Him and all his glory reflected on his face

What a wonderful spring pastime
And what a reminder of childhood
Deb Jones Jul 2019
Why do we choose a certain house?

Does it seem as if the house chose us?

When we look at a windowed structure

Do we think of all we want from a house?

From one another?

To live our lives?

To raise our kids?

To keep out anything that could hurt us?

To protect all our hopes and dreams?

At what point does an echoing house

Made of wood and paint

Become a home?

I think it’s the moment

A house chooses you
Deb Jones Jul 2019
We think the past is past
But believe a place can hold memories
We believe in hallowed grounds
We know places that calm or excite us

The past does not simply die away
It haunts the very ground we stand upon
If you are still and quiet enough
you can feel it
Old ruins
Old estates
Alone in the woods
The echoes quietly,
Fade away
But they
never go

Last year I stood in the places
my ancestors walked.
It was beautifully surreal

The wind felt heavier.
As if I was being welcomed home
In a physical way
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