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Ringing in My Ear

Shouting had become a trigger to me.
I think because it was always a harbinger of abuse to come.
The way your voice rattled my nerves
and left a ringing in my ears,
it had always been accompanied by a hit to my face.
Your voice held so much anger and spite and hate
that it left wounds so deep that I developed scars.
And what’s worse were the blows that never ceased as long as your voice continued to deafen me.
Even when I hadn’t done anything, that voice of yours came for me.
And no matter how much I’d try to shake myself of the past,
trying to prove that I am not the scars you left on me,
the memory of your voice will forever haunt me
because even my demons cower
when I hear the ringing in my ear.

Sleep

It is extremely rare that Sleep arrives punctually.

Most nights, he comes in a few hours late.
Some nights, he doesn’t come at all.

And there exists those few nights where he would arrive only after I’ve had a few drinks; he would pry the bottle out of my hand and hold me in his embrace.
But even then, I knew that he wasn’t the one keeping me warm those nights.

Oh Sleep, my unwilling lover, what am I to do about you?

Heart

A paper heart
torn to pieces;
A heart of glass
dropped and shattered;
An ice for a heart
frostbite ensued;
A stone placed in her chest
carved but cracked;
oh, how she tried
to build a heart that would last
but she could never seem to find
the right material.