Member-only story
Micropoetry
bruises
a short poem
the purple ochre green and grey
the way her pain in colours
everyday displays
today
he locked her in her room
to contemplate wrong-doings
and when she felt the need to scream
she stuffed those bruises in her mouth
and ate them
each and every one
to stop her tongue
from straying
Sally A Mortemore ©2024 — All rights reserved
With many thanks to Margie Pearl , Marla Bishop and The Bad Influence for giving my little poem a place to stay.