It was still your face
In the mirror, yet
It seems changed, as if
What had happened had
Altered you in ways
Not seen until calm
Moments like this when
You sit in front of
The mirror and see
Things more clearly, more
Deeply. You hold the
Hairbrush poised in mid
Air, staring at your
Face, at the blue eyes
And unsmiling lips,
The strain lines on your
Forehead, the mark on
The neck where he had
Held you tight as he
Raped you that night. Yes,
It is your face, but
It had seemed other
Than this once, less lined,
Less fretful, without
That dark memory
Lingering behind
Each pore of scared skin
And you fearful of
Hearing his words as
He knocks at the door
Of your mind and you
Saying over and
Over: don't let him
Come, don't let him in.
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Comments: 19
Don't let the Devil In . .
Blessings and best wishes - S.
Don't answer the door!
Her calm gradually returning as she gazes into her own reflection, may she find a place to build upon that.
Captivating writing.
that is beautiful