No More A Trophy Wife


Sharp as mustard

his words stung and left

a trail of poison in my veins

the marks that you see on my face

are the scarred gashes of my  heart

parts of my body hurt

even with  friction of the clothes

I’m used to the metallic taste

of the human blood

“Perform” he used to say

his sandpaper lips

corroded my skin

rapacious, savage, fire-breathing monster

with tongue whipping in and out like a snake

his fangs exposed and dripping

large paws groping, trusting , tearing

mauling and ripping my soul

confused, deranged, wet and slimy

I lugged my pain streaked carrion

meticulously concealed

nothing but  a battered rag doll

with a wound between the legs

who says “time is a healer”

it torments, prolongs

I mulled memory wine for long

filled glasses, raised toasts

got drunk

and then one day

sprawled on the cold floor

I packed my dreams

gathered my hopes

threw you in the trash

crumpled ball of ink smudged paper

No more a sacrificial lamb

or a tasty morsel

a part of your feast

No more a nauch girl

a marionette

a trophy wife

to flaunt

and

keep encased

behind concrete walls

when not in use

I would rather

live on the streets

under the open sky

but will not be used, abused

humiliated, I won’t

become your trophy wife

I won’t succumb, I’ll fight

I will give  up

but won’t give in

my soul is hardened

I am a rock

Poem: A Childhood Lost


She sat huddled in a corner
staring at the pool of blood
between her aching skinny legs.

Her large eyes vacant and dry
her trembling body tattered and torn
and her soul, bruised and ridden to dust.

Her childhood innocence crushed
by someone’s scavenging lust
someone she was taught to trust.

He ripped her veil

and shamed her forever

violating her with a single thrust.

Alone, in the shadows of her
shattered dreams
She tried in vain to wipe forever
the events of the night
her chilling screams.

Her heart, pregnant with
Emotions unknown,
unheard, unseen

Slowly she closed her swollen eyes
and shut herself to the
rising shame and fear

Too scared to speak
too hurt to cry
as the mist began to clear

They found her body in the morn
along with her clothes
bloodstained and torn.

And beside her tender fragile frame
was written in her blood in shame
a single word that said it all

“Daddy”

copyright Tikuli

vote for it on indivine

Read my article on child abuse prevention

Child Abuse Prevention Month Post( April)- A Daughter’s Letter to Her Parents