Thursday, August 4, 2011


i never have been asked to put paper to pen about it
and i never want to be asked again
in my mind it is a memory which i want to forget
something that i never want to repeat  
something that i will never let my kin experience
the blur becomes clear when you see it on the screen 
black and white 
a harsh reality which i once lived.

a moment
in our kitchen. 
he looked at me, face red
our eyes connected as he picked up his wine glass
and threw it at me
shards of glass all over me
red wine like blood staining my skin, my cloths, my heart. 
I ran from the room, he followed
so did she into a smaller room where I watch him break her hands.
I began to run again this time out of the house
out of the gate.

I ran into the darkness of a cold night
up the street into the quietest alleyways and backstreets I could find
I didn't want to be found.
It was so dark, midwinter. black
Every time I felt car headlights on my back I hid behind trees, fences, anything
I walked for miles that night
I wanted him to be scared like I had felt.
I walked. I ran and I never came home.

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