PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Alone she sits in a rocking chair
with a baby suckling her breast
as her mind drifts. She thinks about
all the promises he made. She recalls
how he told her he'd always be there
and how their special child would
always come first. She rocks in
tune to her troubled memories. She
can still hear him yelling at her
in a drunken rage. She can still hear
him babbling about his day and feelings,
but not asking about hers. She can still
hear him talking about his dreams,
his goals, his priorities. She can still
hear the silence of her and their child
not being included. She can still
hear the door slamming behind him
as he walked out on them. She can
still feel the tears on her cheeks. She
can still feel the hopelessness inside.
She can still feel the remorse of a lost
love, friends, best friend, protector. She
can still feel her emotions vibrate
against her rib cage. She can still
smell the pretty flowers he always
bought. She can still smell his cologne.
She can still smell his alcohol. She
can still smell spoiled food he left
uneaten after she prepared it. She
can still smell his dishonesty. She
can still touch a part of him that
she doesn't hate. She can still touch
a child, who looks just like him. She
can still touch the thorn on a rose
to remind her of his bought apologies.
She can still touch the jewelry
he tried to pon. She can still touch
her moistened tears. She can still
taste. She can still feel her heart
pound with hope when the phone
rings. She can still feel love
for their child. She can still feel
inspired to make this child
happy, healthy, protected, loved,
special. She can still feel
money in her hand as she
does every job that will hire her.
She can still feel cheap as
men drop their napkins for her
to pick up. She can still feel
embarrassed when people want
to know where he is. She can still
feel betrayed as she her heart
burns for a reconciliation. She can
still feel wanted and love as her
baby stops suckling to float into
sleep. She can still feel miraculous
when she thinks about how she
made this darling child. She can still
see a rainbow of dreams. She can still
see a path of destruction left behind
when he slammed that door. She can
still see his face when she gazes at
their child. She can still see sunsets
that were once a tornado of emotions.
She can still see a life of never-ending
happiness as she holds her precious
baby. She can still see faith.