barred

the window is barred
the sun is low
and my white curtain 
stops the light coming through

mazagines scattered on the floor
are witness to what went before
when I was barred 
and you were low
and we both didn't stop 
abuse coming through

in this early light
you thrash and moan
to some kind of internal 
anguish unknown 

to yourself or me and my
bruises are livid, easy to see
where you held me down
and I was low
and we both allowed 
some pain to come through

and we chipped away 
a piece of our glass
so freely forgetting 
we can lose this so fast 

till our windows are cracked
and our sun is low
too faint to allow 
any light to come through
Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem