Tag Archives: Bed

Half a World Away

He staggers up the path to the front door and bellows an incoherent song into the dark silent streets; and she listens to him from their bed. Her body is tense and her mouth is dry from the dread of him bringing home the fighting spirit of the pub. Her mind races with memories of drunken insults, of stings of pain inflicted upon her from the fury of his hand, of bruised skin, of being knocked into unconsciousness.

Shall I pretend I am sleeping? Shall I confront him with the little strength I have left? She thinks.

He ascends the stairs to the top landing where he stops, sways and hiccups; and she observes him through the gap in the door.

I will confront him. I will no longer be afraid of him. I will tell him that I don’t fear him, that I no longer love him. I will tell him I am leaving tomorrow, that it’s over.

He enters the bedroom and switches on the light. She observes his face, his hollow cheeks, his enflamed eyes, and her thoughts and intentions dissipate, and her mouth fails to communicate the words she longs to speak.

He approaches the bed and raises his hand, as he finishes off the violence he began eight hours earlier. She closes her eyes, blanks out the pain and pushes her thoughts away from her sunken life into one that is half a world away.

©2013.alittlebirdtweets

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Lovable Beast

From the corner of my eye, from the softness of my pillow, I see him sleeping; his mouth is ajar, silently breathing in dust motes that float erratically above the quilt. He looks peaceful, beautiful, somewhat angelic, in slumber; a wonderful contrast to the lovable beast that inhabits him, in consciousness. He opens his eyes; did he sense me looking at him, I wonder? Does he know I look at him this way every morning, and think such things? He smiles at me; the creases of middle-age have formed in the corners of his lips, the lips I would kiss, every morning, adoringly and without hesitance. We pillow-talk, reflect on our past, until the dust motes settle. We speak of our families, our friends and of our two beautiful teenage children – but our conversation always fails to lead to the one, difficult-to-ask, forever-grinding, question, Why have you been cheating on me?

©2012.alittlebirdtweets

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Jesse

Jesse, tonight the light on the stairs fails to illuminate my presence. My milky body is enveloped in a torn chiffon chemise; that no married woman would ever dare wear. But you don’t see me, do you? I see a bed with a hole where I once laid; a telephone that no longer rings for me; a wedding photograph that is fading in time; don’t you see the days sunlight bleaching us? I guess life was so much more intricately woven for me, than it was for you.

©2012.alittlebirdtweets

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,
Advertisements
Smart Veg Recipes

Welcome to home made, vegeterian, healthy & kids friendly recipes

blackwings666

Horror, Science Fiction, Comic Books and More

Merry Motherhood

Musings of a first-time mommy

Lighght

Maybe happiness is not what i want

Catherine Vaughan's World

Twenty-Something Poet & Novelist in England...

hilalachmar

In Definitely True Knowledge

Got You Curious

Somewhere with my books and gadgets😑❤

Crazartt

And just like that she built the Queendom she always wanted.

Picturesque poetry

Swarnima sharma

Texas Outlaw Poet

JEFF CALLAWAY

THE ERRORS

Hidup tanpa gaje bukanlah hidup!

umaverma12

Inner-peace is necessary to overcome of all the pain.

Three Rivers Deep | Book Series

Book one SUN CATCH HER releases on November 24, 2018! (Amazon, Kobo, B&N, iBooks, Walmart)

Optimistic Life

The essence of Poetry📚

BLISSFULLY LOST SOUL ❤

I WRITE BECAUSE OF HER ❤

InvestInYourselfFirst!!

Failure inspires Winners and defeats Losers!!!

Life - a tale

Because everyone's the same tale, narrated differently.

Thoughtsmith

... feelings & thoughts, scripted in fonts ...

The Voice of Peace

Be the peace you are looking for

The Flowers of Art

In the kingdom of life, with the strokes of the brush, the bow and the pen, artists have sowed their hearts to contrive, fields rivalling in beauty the Garden of Eden.

Alice Wake Up

Give Life a Meaning

Girl, Interrupted

Getting the words out

J.W. Carey

There is a great literary tradition of well-off white guys hating themselves. I think it ended up being called Existentialism. I'm doing my damn best to keep it alive.

Mellow Mayhem

A Mellow Revolution

Marc Fusion

A concise guide to the world of cinema, tv, and games through the eyes of a sociopath

Haint-Blue Shudders

Ghosts, Spirits, Hags, & Haints

The Protagonist Speaks

Interviews with the characters of your favourite books

Megan Slayer and Wendi Zwaduk

Second Chances and White Hot Romance

A Life Beyond Crohn's

Living life with Crohn's Disease

Ilonita's Books, Quilts & notes

My book reviews, quit & sewing projects, and notes from travelling.

chattyday

When no one else listens

My Wonderland

A blog about my life and thoughts

%d bloggers like this: