Tuesday, December 20, 2011

I trusted you
yet now my sleep
is haunted
by the chemical smells
of the washroom floor, 
the last imprint
of consciousness
on my sleepy mind

Mother always warned
about the kindness of strangers
offering pretty colors
in crystal goblets,
warned to drink
from the tap
and not from lust

My torn underwear
pay homage to her cries,
my innocence shredded
and sore,
your smile and cologne
to mock me,

My shame a guarantee
of silence 

© Antonio Beardall

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