PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I’m curled up on the bath room floor again.
The grooves in the stone tile digging into my cheek.
The tear soaked surface feels cold on my face.
I wonder if the Monster is sleeping.

How long has it been; minutes, hours?
My body stiff, my limbs heavy and tingling.
How am I even lying down in such a confined space?
I wonder if my babies are sleeping.

Holding my breath as the door creaks open.
Perspiration dips down the small of my back.
I can hear the rhythmic breathing coming from down the hall.
I wonder if I should be sleeping.