Little Whispers

Tangled

Shadows of gnarled branches cut into the room
Eerie finger-puppet show, backlit by the moon
Splayed upon the pillow, black curls in a darkened mess
Tangled on the floor, in a heap there lays her dress
Writhing limbs on crisp, white sheets; skin soaking in sweat
A recurring nightmare this has been the worst one yet
Twirling of curtains as the wind causes a stir
Furtive glances out the window, he is thinking about her
Plumping up the pillow, dark moods caused an angry row
Fuelled manipulation, somehow this is different now
Control with loaded questions, having to pretend
Made to prove himself as the night comes to an end
Anguished contortions animating her sleeping face and form
Another night of terror seems to have become the norm
Outside the bedroom window which is open just a crack
A streak of lightning cuts across the starless sky so black
Murmuring escapes her in a variant of sound
Unintelligible whimpers as the thunder rolls around
Smugly smirking lips are urging him to break
Defiance does not realise his actions now are fake
Mechanical the coaxing that does nothing to ignite
He has to think of something to avoid another fight
Automatic physical response, a streak so cold and mean
Imagining her legs instead, that he is in between
Springing up, her body sits, a cold sweat drenches skin
Breathing heavy, trembling, need to calm the fear within
Reach out for the lamp cord to illuminate the room
A press of a button chased away all of the gloom
Outside, a storm in full flow, she gets up to head downstairs
Switches on the kettle wishing that he could be there
No reciprocation from the partner he's atop
No passion, no responses but he knows he cannot stop
His eyes are firmly shut as he goes through the motions
The only way it finishes is through imagined notions
Physical this duty, he must do that will appease
But is mind is on her, wishing it was her that he pleased