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9 December

A Poem

By Megan TaylorPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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His voice is like whiplash

Throw me through the windscreen

His words unfastened my seat-belt

His warmth deceived me

He said "let me be your safe place"

But this safe place was not in the arms of someone I thought I may one day come to love

This safe place was in the passenger seat

This safe place was 70mph with the headlights turned off

And as we come to a grinding halt, and the world seems to slow down

I look to the person sat beside me,

Mid air, heading for the concrete

He does not look, he does not extend an arm

He makes no effort to save me

Instead he catapults me further into the black hole I was so tirelessly clawing my way out of

He is wearing his seatbelt

I am on the pavement, my bones are splintered

And my skin is red raw

He unfastens his seatbelt

He opens the driver's door, steps out

And walks away

Without a stumble, second glance, a shred of guilt.

I am left tangled in the bed linen he ruined

I am left to exist in the skin and bones he sodomised

I am left to live within the four walls that watched.

slam poetry
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