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HopefullyRinPoems
She sits in front of the dishwasher; The face inside stares back at her, Eyes so deep and wasted. Near the cabinet another face reaches eternally to the cabinet, Eyes with misery and so bitter The face behind her leans against the counter, Eyes tense with barely concealed fear Count to five The face in the doorway stares at the kitchen, grayed in and gray, with eyes frozen in shock, pulled back into a flinch, A soccer player sees the ball heading for his face. The face behind them all is faceless; She kneels on hands and feet, picks up spilled glass, shattered milk. and blood. She never looks at her, but They all stare at her.
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May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
Plastic
She sits in front of the dishwasher; The face inside stares back at her, Eyes so deep and wasted. Near the cabinet another face reaches eternally to the cabinet, Eyes with misery and so bitter The face behind her leans against the counter, Eyes tense with barely concealed fear Count to five The face in the doorway stares at the kitchen, grayed in and gray, with eyes frozen in shock, pulled back into a flinch, A soccer player sees the ball heading for his face. The face behind them all is faceless; She kneels on hands and feet, picks up spilled glass, shattered milk. and blood. She never looks at her, but They all stare at her.
#domesticabuse#abuse#depression#past#fear
Written by
HopefullyRin
Cisgender Female/Tennessee
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
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