Possessive Wretchedness

This poem will be a trigger for certain people.
Mom if you see this before I warn you not to read……do not read……I am working something out.
This is about abuse. 
This is a memory I am unsure of. However I keep coming back to it. As I said above to mom…..I am working on something. 
Came to me
middle of the night
took from me
sense of self
sense of me
before him
you did rape me.
Driving home
broken heart
death would be preferable
could not do
to mother true.
Loved me she did
she does 
knowledge found
so much later
wish not to share
warned her
can only hope
these words
she reads not
but I need to bleed.
Coming home
three in front
red light
single girls
blaring music
his smile
my disgust.
Years later
so many years
I know not what to make
gnaws at me
this memory does
delve not deep
want to ignore
yet still…..
every time it does arise
tamp down I do
therapy taught me one thing
dig not
truth will come
hoping still
a nightmare undone.
©May 16/20
Picture found on Pinterest

Blinded (Picture Prompt #10)

dawn’s early rays
scented air.
Sea salt
roar of the waves
crashing to shore.
Time slows
seconds become minutes
minutes become hours
when does it end?
Sand trickles through my fingers
each grain 
a specific memory of our lives.
I yearn for days of summer 
strawberry kisses
wine glazed bodies
hot looks
desire sparking from the slightest touch.
Winter has fallen
alone so I am.
taste of your lips
brush of your fingers
An affair to remember
to ruminate over
silent tears
forgotten pain…..
why oh why
am I so blind?
Copyright April 17/19
Picture via Pinterest again provided by The Eclectic Contrarian