Her broken soul finds a home on the streets of old
recovering from broken dreams and lost loves told
In silence she walks, pushing her three wheeled cart
No longer looking to mend her broken heart
the silence she embraces as an old friend
she thinks peaceful thoughts wishing for the end
She is lost with no destination in her addled mind
The sun and wind will numb her pale skin again and again
Her teeth fall out and sores don’t heal
but that is okay she knows not the real
She walks the path each day trying to
remember the way of where and life of who
In the park she finds a half~ eaten sandwich
sitting on the bench she begins to munch
as the leaves fall in a sepia tone only she can touch
She keeps her silence close to her chest
As the winter of life touches her breast
Peace is what her lost soul knows
Pushing her three wheeled cart
among the many cars row after row
Until she sleeps the sleep of the dead
She walks the path of life the paths of old.
She curled up in the corner of the sofa, makeup streaked, knotted hair, swollen lip and throat. He slammed the door and she heard the deadbolt turn with his key, locked in again but what does it matter?
She had taken his keys while he showered, to unlock the mailbox and gather the mail, she just wanted to know why he kept a padlock and a bolted flap across the top slot. That was all, she wanted to pick up the effin mail and for that she paid, again.
He had taken the only car, the house phone and nailed a board across the back door from the outside.
She thought how stupid she was just like he said, as she sat there on the ugly sofa he bought, just like he picked out this damn house without her doing anymore than putting her name on the dotted line before even seeing it. Why didn’t she see the signs, the controlling tendencies, or did she see them but chose to ignore them because he “loved” her and would take care of her?
Continuing to sit there on that horrible hated sofa she contemplated suicide but there was not a pill in the house and she was too afraid to hurt herself with a razor or knife. Getting up she went to the kitchen for water, sipping it she realized her throat hurt much worse than any other time he had choked her, trying to speak she realized she had been left with no voice….
*****had the tv on, an ad for the humane society came on and I heard all the sadness spoken of and the phrase left w/o a voice…inspiration and a life experience came together in this one.