Those Four Words
“Don’t you get pregnant” were the words that I heard
While the salty tears fell making my vision blurred.
I thought I could confide in her; she was my best friend.
I didn’t know my confession would put us at the end.
To hear that her man was molesting me was hard
And my words were leaving her emotionally scarred.
She would much rather believe that I was a liar
Than to believe I was the one her man had a desire.
It is much easier to disregard the painful truth
Than to know her man drank daily from the fountain of youth.
Anger in those 4 words; fury painted her beautiful face;
I yearned for her to hold me but I never got that embrace.
Trembling from the shock, I just laid there in disbelief,
That I knew my childhood would be riddled with such grief.
Violated by the one that I trusted and not a soul cared,
Losing sleep at night because I would lay awake scared,
I was alone in this battle, one that I didn’t have to fight,
A battle that I lost constantly for years every single night.
My predator, my perpetrator, my nighttime terror
And only because she didn’t want to seem like a failure.
Feeling betrayed, I had no choice but to accept my fate--
That she cared not that I suffered at the hands of her mate.
Copyright © Constance Gilmore | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment