Trust
Trust
I’m standing in the kitchen—
a cornered thing, your body sealing me in,
and trust—once simple—
hangs trembling in the air between us.
Your breath arrives before your words,
lifting the small hairs along my chin.
I trusted you then, too—
not knowing trust could bruise.
“Go on—hit me. Hit me!”
you bellow, begging for the blow,
and when I finally let go,
you’re suddenly sprawled on the kitchen floor,
claiming the injury—
claiming the story—
claiming my trust and twisting it.
Two years on,
I’m back in that same tight space,
not your body now
but your mind trapping me.
Tiny put-downs,
quiet tellings-off,
you chastise me like a child.
Each word a small betrayal—
death by a thousand broken trusts.
You command, Be a parent!
as if I hadn’t tried,
as if my son’s small storms
proved I was unworthy.
Once, I trusted you with us—
with him—
with me.
But the walls close in again.
No exit.
Your poison fills hand, heart, body.
Trust rots quickest
when held by the wrong hands.
You hold the reins;
I fall into line.
My lips forget speech.
My love—my curse—
trails back to the day we met,
the day I gave you trust
you never meant to keep.
If time had a door
I could lock behind me,
I’d shut that moment out forever—
erase the cost of trusting you,
undo the one mistake
that haunts me still:
leaving my son
at the mercy of someone
I should never
have trusted.
Almost
without a mother.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
