Graphic, poems

Mustiness (Graphic)

Mustiness (Graphic)

01/06/2017

There’s a mustiness contained within his coat from the congealed water.

I can smell it’s taste when he’s close enough to breath on me.

He doesn’t exactly breath, like his eyes don’t exactly see, as much as he’s just there, stationary, waiting.

Waiting for an action, a movement, a hair to fall out of place or the silent click of an opening jaw  about to scream before he reacts.

Curtains close and a painful silence ensues.

You better hope you’re not silent.

There’s a rise in every moved hip, trembling lip or sliding slip that’s just another excuse to hit.

Did you bite your lip after he’d spit?

Blood droplets down pale faces.

Make up all sold and brought.

You’re innocent, You’re someone daughter.

There’s a mustiness contained within his coat from the congealed water.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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