Your Invisible Fingers on My Windpipe
Poetry in free verse
Poetry in free verse
Your hands never once touched my skin
and yet, I have scars all over
from the time we spent together.
My mother had always warned me to stay away from abusers.
“They look innocent as a newly weaned babe
and whisper words sweeter than honey -
I love you and I promise it will never happen again — they will say.
But if they hit you even once, run, my sweet child,
save yourself,” she had urged.
But all her words could never have protected me from you.
You — who never hit me,
and yet when I woke up, my body was black and blue all over,
aching in places I never knew could possibly ache,
bruises from memories of your words
and how worthless you made me feel.
My breathing was shallow —
as if my throat still felt
the vicious grip of your invisible fingers on my wind-pipe,
that drained all my energy
and made me feel like I deserved it;
that I would never find love again if you left.
And oh, how naive I was
to have always believed you
when you showered me with love the next day.
Your caress- so incredibly tender,
it made me forget the pain,
until the time it all came back again —
the guilt, the hurt, the blood, the tears,
and when I complain,
your reply was always the same -
I am sorry, it will never happen again.
I promise I’ll give you better.
And as simply as if my mother had never warned me,
I went back to you again,
and again,
so many times that it became a vicious cycle,
and I was never satisfied — always in pain,
knowing I deserved better,
trying, though all my efforts went in vain,
but not knowing
that better wasn’t something you could give me;
better was something only I could give myself.
More poetry by Anangsha Alammyan in P.S. I Love You:
If you liked this piece of work, you might be interested in my book of poems — Stolen Reflections: Some Stories Are Told in Verse.