"Please don't come closer." Those were the words I cried while I pleaded on that dreadful night
I remember that night
She had returned home all drunk, totally wasted and looking like Chinese junk
Dressed in an overly short rag
Her hair was neatly weaved in a French twist
The little black pins sparkled in her dirty blonde hair
But, oh, sweet compliments are all these
Not necessary, just out of a weak and vivid memory
I remember, how she suddenly lunged at me
Dragging me up by my twisted locks
Ouch. What a memory.
I remember all the air slicing screams
How they deafened the ears of my late father in his sweet old grave.
"Please don't hurt me." I cried loudly yet quietly.
But she never for once listened to a seven year old me.
"Your father used to hurt me this way." She devilishly laughed, making me understand I was about to be murdered yet again.
"Please don't come close." Were the last lines, I shouted with my shaky voice as I ran out the door never to return.
I wonder how she still fares
I hope that the golden bucket has she not yet kicked
For I promised my late grandmother to always wish her 'a mother's day' even though she was the total opposite.
What do I do now?
This special day shall arrive in the next fourteen days.
The same day she turned a monster at twilight.
The same day our comfortable love was peacefully scattered.
YOU ARE READING
Finding Solace🥀🌺💔
PoetryYou are my addiction With you I feel like I'm in the land of seduction When you caress my skin I feel like I'm in deception When you kiss me I feel like I'm in a concert that has eviction The feeling is so hot, that I feel like I'm in affliction At...
