A trickle of rain in a drought,
A flower growing in a dead garden,
A smile in despair,
A hand in the darkness,
hope.
The rain stops,
The flower withers,
The smile fades,
The hand dissipates,
It's only a matter of time before he gets me.
I clamp my hand over my mouth,
And the stairs creak with the heaviness of his step,
His footsteps stop at the foot of my bed,
My breath slackens,
Quiet,
Not a sound,
He bends,
And I'm dragging back into my nightmare,
It'll be ok.
YOU ARE READING
For you
Poetry• For those with invisible wounds • For those with rushed childhoods • For those with forgotten memories • For the trauma • For those that dream • For those that lost someone important • For the selfless • For those with plastered smiles • for t...
