Your Words
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Your Words
He…,
put me on the ground.
He yelled.
He screamed.
Sometimes…
he was obscene.
I walked on.
I wanted to live,
the perfect life.
The picket fence,
and no strife.
Two kids, a yard, a house.
A mouse in the kitchen,
a cat in the yard,
happy.
You talked of killing me.
You openly displayed,
your hostility,
and I stupidly,
let you stay…
on.
I should have shown you the door.
I should have told you before.
I don’t want you anymore,
you are not the man I knew,
you are only his echo.
The return of that sound,
is less and less,
now only a few…
and then
gone.
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2019
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