whispers


love may be poison
wrapped up in ribbons,
a slow suffocation of all that seemed shining,
a promise of dark dreams
stinging with terror,
as violence lurks behind yesterday’s flowers

she is cut to the bone,
with whispers and smiles.
this is not love, this is raw, wicked power.
it is rape, with soft words
leaving torn, jagged wounds
on the bright, bloody shards
of the soul of his lover.

the shadow of fear, falls cold as the night
as hearts search in darkness,
for truth without lies.

(c) 2020 BGeiger

abuse

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interpret the word however you like.
if you have no power in your relationship,
no control over your own life
and no hope,
this is abuse.

if your confidence has been stolen from you,
if you must tiptoe
through the turbulence between power and ego,
this is abuse.

if words are only safe unspoken
thoughts monitored for subversion,
feelings stuffed between the sofa cushions,
you are being abused.

if you are paralyzed with fear
of staying, of leaving
of dying, of not dying
and have nowhere left to go,
you are being abused.


(c) 2020 BGeiger