Flowers

Dreaming

The clock strikes, it is time for violence

Glass bones shatter as I watch him take another sip

He gulps, the bottle entangled in the sweep of his lips

I sit in the dark, his shouts erasing the silence

Pleading for the lullaby of sirens

I await the casting of moonlight on my bruises

I am torn, I cannot win, I will lose, against

His bottle, or his belt, or the gun that he fires

Into the ceiling

I hear screaming

But I am shaken awoke, my mind reeling

He says I was just dreaming-

No darling, you're dreaming,

And I am living a nightmare.