Withering
I opened my heart, as a bud in bloom
A fragile flower, gently held in his arms
I welcomed the warmth of his touch
He was my morning dew, slaked my thirst
and sated my hunger for love.
His words were whispered in my ear.
But now, his utterances rip my petals apart
Cruel inflictions play havoc on my soul,
His language hurls daggers at my heart
I'm tortured and tormented with toxic chiding
His voice is venom from the fangs of a snake,
leaving puncture wounds, dripping with blood.
His angry words strip me bare of dignity
With each flay of his tongue, I am whipped
I'm withering like a clipped rose,
exposed to a scourge of abusive speech
What ails my heart leaves no bodily scars
I need benediction to heal my wounds
but I know the answer to my prayers
will never come from his cursed lips
And although it's not easy to forgive him,
I do because I am guilty of self-infliction.
The love I have for him is an addiction,
and for this weakness, I suffer the pain
of allowing his words to pummel my heart
again and again
August 10th, 2020
Inflictions Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
Copyright © Jenna Logan | Year Posted 2020
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