pain
is listening
to the giggles of your daughter
calling her boyfriend,
and aching for her
to crawl into your lap again.
it's when you become
the monster under her bed,
the one she's still terrified of
but refuses to acknowledge.
the one she shoves
away into her closet,
hiding all her secrets
and lies from.
it's when you cry
amidst your bedroom
where no-one will ever hear.
and it's silent vengeance
for calling those
deadly boys
many, many
years before.
~ bedroom
YOU ARE READING
acheful
Poetry❝ the town was paper but the memories were not. ❞ an anthology of poems written during an inexplicable journey of friendship, hope and forgiveness called life.
