Tuesday, 22 January 2013


The club lights dashed and teased the ceiling,
Flickering at it and then they were gone.
At the bar, she stares at the crowd blankly.
Hope escaped her fierce hold, knuckles white.
Blinking, she got up dangerously tainted,
Appearing careless about innocence.
A thief, one who exchanged her protection,
For minutes of his own grotesque pleasure,
Had watched from close quarters over the years.

He had taken part in her making, but
Sickly, his sanity was swept away
With every prayer that he forgot to speak.
The man, a father of three, chose Satan. 

Tonight, her invisibly bruised heart has
Closed off all emotion, closing the door
To anything that makes her think of him,
Whose lap she used to crawl up on.
She is ready to forget, clasping eyes
With a dark brood across the room who winks.
If only her eyes saw the strained hand reaching,
Beaming magnificent, hope-filled light. 

Quietly, she crawls into the bed of strange,
The bed of new, to push out the haunting old.
Hands reaching for the wrong picture of right.
He is mindfully fading into the lost
Places of her mind, hysteria comes, 
As tonight becomes just about tonight.

Original Work by Sarah Rhodes. copyright

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