Part of her is scarred
and she wraps that spot
with scarves, high collars
or extra mascara.
Remnant traces still
ring her shoulder.
Mawkish echoes careen
around her brain.
His self-inflicted torture
spilled over onto her
as his crazed lashes struck her
bone deep.
Musty smells
from those moments
linger
among her nostril mucus.
She carries on,
unable to complete
her forgiveness.
Last Few Words: I’ve had this one for a while and I can’t seem to find peace with it. I know they say a poem is never finished and, to me, this one is incomplete. Any ideas appreciated.
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
So no trigger
or no end. I will have to think about that. Attempting to picture a man who is tortured by his own anger or rage and she (his mate) becomes the brunt of his outbreaks. She carries on without being able to fine it in her soul to forgive him. Her scars remain. Thank you for you feedback. I am open to it and will give it my full consideration.