what are these rockets
pounding on my door
i dare not look
asunder anymore
the threat real
the imagined, unraveling
sweep the dirt under the rug.

your words
never match the actions
your propensity to deny
the invisible wall erected
let’s stand behind the glass
screaming
so not a sound is heard

except the knotted rope
swaying in a breeze
as if to sooth my belief
or is it unbelief
in you.
if i were a name
your shame would be real

and not bordered by family
watching tv.
i remain sitting on my bed
supposedly covered
breathless under x-ray blankets
quilts rather, a usual feel to comfort
now they reveal

hidden secrets.
i heard you laughing
eating pizza
i starved myself, please know
not noticing my breakfast, lunch
do you remember my ravaging spaghetti,
my food of choice?

two heaping plates full
the blood spilt on my face.
please, threaten to leave.
and then you left
me silent
afraid to move an arm
cowering behind the door

not daring to drink,
a dehydrated flower.
those flowers, you took pictures of,
me, thrown away
and you never took responsibility,
dressed me as a doll
underneath tattered

and you never take responsibility
for the dirt swept under the rug.

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