Last Night #Poetry

I pray in silence

as his words echo.

I await in his volume

for my coffin in the quiet.

 

His fingers grip

the softness of flesh.

Tomorrow, pink

will turn dark

and brooding.

 

I am nothing but

a fucking bitch,

a lazy cunt.

 

He throws with force

his drunken self

against the locked door.

The wooden frame groans.

The deadbolt holds fast.

 

“Can you hear that?”

I ask into the phone.

“I can hear everything,’

the dispatcher assures.

 

LLH
3-12-15
1:32 am

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