Seventeen

Mon, 06/24/2019 - 21:49 -- khuff00

Maybe after all 17 years my body has adapted to my surrounding

Maybe instead or seeing through rose-colored lenses of oblivion or through the shattered glass of the vase hurled at the wall, my vision is crystal clear.

No need for glasses that can be smudged or scratched.

That’s probably why I was able to see you poised like a cat waiting for your moment to pounce and stick that knife into my back

The loud music pulsating through my headphones drowning out the even louder fights the sounds of doors being open and closed, the sounds of car engines-

Did nothing to mute the deafening sound of the lies I had to hear flowing from your lips.

 The taste of blood on my tongue from the words I couldn’t say to her

Made telling you off taste so much sweeter

Because now I’m not swallowing your lies that burn my throat worse than those years ago where I tried to be numb like her.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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