I fear what’s to come
when he arrives home
with the stench of liquor
hanging on his clothes.
I fear what’s to come
when he looks to embrace me
but my face turns the floor
so my panic doesn’t show.
I fear what’s to come
for I’m no longer home.
From my mind
to my heart
I hear my thoughts creep.
Slowly, silently,
my heart beats with fear.
I should’ve closed the door
when I heard the footprints.
It’s dark outside,
and so is it in my room.
It’s dark in my room
and so has the darkness consumed me.
The tears have stopped,
I feel the sticky salt upon my cheeks.
But there’s a persistent burn
in my heart and along my arms.
The blade’s on the pedestal,
I switch on the light.
There’s blood on the floor—
Oh what have I done?
Tasmiyah Oumar is an aspiring poet. Her aim is to inspire through her words.
