Strong

I lay awake, breathing. Slow, I tell myself, slow and light.
I tense, awaiting the blow.
It does not come.

I smile a shared smile – our day peppered with happiness.
The heat cracks across my face.
Pain drills into my core.

It was me - my fault. I never learn.
Paint the mask more carefully tomorrow.
Be better; worthy.

The shrilling of the phone signals agitation.
Talk in hushed whisper - be more thoughtful.
I understand.

The heavy scent of alcohol hangs in the air - a silhouette in the doorway.
Bile rises.I sense it;
agony.

Float on clouds – they’re soft and comforting.
Free your mind like a wisp of wind.
This is not you – it is another.

I never thought I was ‘another’.
I tend my bruises and sit, in a pool of despair.
I drown in it.

A desperate ache fills me – a longing to be more.
Fight.
But what if I lose?

Another biting word means I lose a fistful of hair.
Days pass.
I am alone - bleeding and alone.

I cry but tears do not come.
I cry rage. Rage for all the stolen chances.
For the life I should have led.

Hollow, I leave.
Not to contemplate the future, but now.
Now I can be me – be free to breathe and live. Not just in fear, but live.

(c) copyright Jane Edwards 2010