A poetic journey through my mind

Hope

She pulls her sleeves below her wrists
to hide the marks of angry fists,
and checks her face for signs of age,
puts makeup over signs of rage.
Her eyes are sad, her face is bright,
as she walks, smiling, to meet the night.
He meets her at the bottom stair,
the guests…his guests…already there.
An eyebrow raised, he takes her hand,
painfully, so she’ll understand.
His eyes meet hers with hate so real,
she shivers at the ice she feels.
She pastes a smile on, lady of the manor,
her expression proud as any banner.
The guests all see the beauty there,
holding hands upon the stair,
they cannot see the room inside,
where her dead heart must run and hide.
They cannot see the silent eyes,
the graveyard where her lost hope lies.

6 responses

  1. I think I know someone like that…
    Oh, and I really want to participate in your book project, is there any specific overall theme?

    April 21, 2012 at 7:07 am

    • Stay tuned for a post on that very subject before the weekend is over. *hugs* I’d love to have you participate!

      KC & Co.

      April 21, 2012 at 7:15 am

  2. lenwilliamscarver

    wonderfully descriptive!

    April 21, 2012 at 6:31 pm

    • Thank you! I was trying to show that not only the lower income brackets deal with abuse. It can hit anywhere.

      KC

      April 21, 2012 at 7:34 pm

  3. That’s awful – but talented!

    April 21, 2012 at 9:01 pm

  4. Our church women’s fellowship group had a program on this type of domestic violence and its symptoms just a week ago! How many successful, agressive career men come home and practice their aggressive skills on their wives!

    May 2, 2012 at 4:46 pm

Talk to me, people! ;)

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