The Fort

I.
Sweet solitude
In my own little world
Cotton sheets conceal
The bed frame
Creating protective walls
Father walks through
The front door
Cheeks like cherries
Eyelids dragged
By the weight of life
Tumbles to the couch
Collapsing into shadowed
Folds of leather.

II.
My mother marches
Towards the drunk fool
Eyes corrupted by hate
Teeth showing
A familiar sight
When the screaming begins
I fall into comfort
From my world
Pillows caressing my
Bottom and walls
Holding strong
Like watching a battle
From the safety of
Stone and brick where
Everything is silent
And fears disperse.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s