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CJ Feb 2019
We were
leaning on each others shoulder

We were
holding hands

We were
hugging tightly

If only I was included in the we....
My heart is aching from seeing both of them
I keep trying to injure myself to stop this pain......
Shivani Lalan Feb 2015
He had a habit of forgetting
That the knife should be
At his left,
Unlike others.
Every morning, she would
switch the fork with the knife.

When they finished lunch
she started clearing up
and noticed the knife to his right

That night,
after their routine drew to a close,
They talked.
Slowly, at first.
A touchy subject walks in.

It's time.

Even as the air is knocked from her lungs,
She gets up and scrabbles on the floor.
Nails scratching the carpet.
Eyes scanning the horizon, now black.
Her brain decides to get up,
Her body disobeys.

Her body disobeys.

Isn't that what put her here in the first place?
So what if she is pretty?
So what if her eyes are sparkling emeralds?
Her belly renders her defenceless
from his onslaught.
Isn't it her fault
that it is empty?
Isn't she wrong to want
independence from him?
Mentally, physically, emotionally?
He owned her, didn't he?

He owned her, didn't he.

He explained to her the benefits
of obeying.
Her pretty face wouldn't have been
all those ungainly shades of black.
Her eyes wouldn't have been encircled by blue.
All she had to do was obey
and not tell anyone
but obey.
Her brain rebelled.

Her brain rebelled.

Her body, for once, obeyed.
She stumbled through the hallway
She knocked down her favourite frame-
Their daughter on a pony.
Kitchen, her sanctuary.
She broke her favourite China.
Hurled her utensils.
"I arranged them last week, you *****."
And then she saw them.
The knives.

The knives.

They were inviting  
Her hands were pale, waiting.
His heart corrupt, hating.
*"Knives to your left, darling."
As a sociology student, I found domestic violence  intensely intriguing and wanted to experiment with the same.
Joe Haydon Mar 2014
So I did my ankle in on Friday.
Thought I'd see how I was to drive by nipping to work and back.
Ok. So far so good.
The tyre pops.
But I get there.
Ok - it's cool - change the tyre:
Spare wheel? Check
Jack? Check
Security socket? Check
Tyre iron? No.
Now stranded outside work with a buggered ankle, a popped tyre and without a very important tool to change the wheel.
And for some reason nobody else seems to keep that vital piece of equipment in their boot either.
As Lady Luck would have it (in her mysterious way), a chance encounter ended with a lift home.
I will return tomorrow fully prepared.
With luck I won't get a ticket sitting on a double yellow all night.
Hold on.

Dear Lady Luck,
Make up your mind.
Joe Haydon

— The End —