Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Jill

I see you so small.  Pink and purple hair screaming for attention.

Tiny flecks of glitter just enough to sparkle in his darkness.

A camera says that you are pretty.  He orders you to touch your shame.  Muffled threats I cannot hear but your fear speaks louder than a human word.

bad dad.  bad dad.  bad dad.

Purple spots behind the eyes as his hands wrap around my neck.  Orange rope takes their place as his hands move to hurt me.  Nearly falling asleep makes it better.  For him.  The excitement and the power are his to do as he wants.

A reminder of those special times.  A cold and stringent splash burns my nose and then my eyes.  Liquid to clean a dirty girl.  The faintest smell of dirt as I run my fingers along and catch a splinter of a forever home.  Buried with his scent forever lingering as more glitter runs away with every pour.

No more sparkle.  Just the dirt.

His suffocating smell calls out to Afraid.  If I wake I live another day in his darkness. If I die I am afraid.

Afraid no one will miss me. Afraid of a funeral with no flowers.

2 comments:

JeannetteLS said...

I have forgotten to say this, out of caring about your pain. You are an AMAZING writer. My GOD, it is so powerful and beautiful in its rawness.

That's all. I just am knocked out by the power of your words, that's all.

Shattered said...

Thanks, Jeannette. I certainly don't feel like one; I just write my disjointed thoughts as they come. I'm glad that they are clear enough to convey some of what I feel.