All I have are
these photographs
without you.

thrown on the bed
you stare at me
through the
laughing clown &

the moon crescent
above my head
where baby doll
smiles

she glimmers
reflecting the moon
it's peaceful home
in a midnight sky.

you spoke to me
that night & I,
woke soon after
a breaking dawn
with my head spinning
somersaults of
greater fright than
those I tumbled through
on tortured weekends

skipping into class
weighed & deemed
good enough
gymnastic skill
my weight in gold
ticked & signed.

your shadow
followed me
to school &,
I even drew you
when the art teacher
simply asked;
draw what you dreamt
last night

that same day
teacher hung you
above the hall room
&, every lunch time
you would glare
&, every inch of skin
formed goosebumps
for if I dared eat
you'd know, because
you were always right
there.

you took a few years off
fed on another girls
flesh, then another
I would see them
shrinking in size
slipping off to bathrooms
but then,
I was too naive
to know
but what I did know, was
they drew you in
similar ways, &
at home I would pray
that the monster
would be exorcized
on the page, as it had
for me.

I'm aged fourteen
standing in the garage
packed boxes in storage

maybe I found you
or maybe you led me
back, &
as I tore back tape
you smiled at me
flashback;
laughing clown
baby doll

I jumped back in fear
you didn't care
I forced you down
&, I sat on the box
to hide your face
but you were already
whistling
by the garage door
&, right there
was the scorn.

you'd haunted me
every day
since I was born

I was the child you tore
from her home
&
you were the phantom
the ghost
the unwanted
host.

© Sia Jane