Shadows

Light drifts,
slowly
down,
it slants across the floor
over bare feet.
Hitting off a couch,
shadows bounce,
darkness swells,
Billowing through
light,
it lays heavy.
Freya lays,
Draped across a chair,
angled oddly,
she observes the contrast,
of the light and shadows.
Shadows move.
A figure walks in,
she can her his footsteps,
and see his dark shadow.
She imagines its darker,
more murky than the others.
A reflection of his soul,
Corrupt.
His shadow moves.
She glances up involuntarily,
he is walking towards her silently,
though,
by the look on his face,
you’d say he wished he was stomping,
but he must be silent,
else to wake her mother.
She glances back down towards the shadows,
but his is all she can see.
He is standing inches from her,
she can feel his breathe,
hot and angry.
it comes out in huffs.
he says nothing as he lays his hand
on her shirt,
he yanks,
she feels the fabric grip her flesh,
and hears the tear of cotton
and watches as the remaining fabric flutters
back against her abdomen.
torn but still one,
like herself.
she thinks this
as she watches his shadow arm,
reach.
She feels his hand in her hair,
it yanks her from her awkward seating,
and pulls her to him,
her back against his bulging belly.
She can remember the time
anger over took her and she mentioned it,
she remembers his fists slaming into her stomach.
she stares at the wall.
His undistracted hand dipping into her pants.
He breaks the button,
she watches it as it falls and rolls
across the hardwood,
she doesn’t brag her gaze from it.
He yanks her pants down,
they fall, to loose for her thin frame.
his hand still in her hair,
he drags her to the couch.
he pushes her
down
face first,
with nothing to distract her gaze.
everything feels more intense.
She feels his heavy frame.
behind her,
Feels his hand leave her hair.
His sweaty hands,
run across her back,
over her buttock.
sliding aside the thin fabric
of her underwear.
With the use of his legs
he spreads her.
open.
Displays her,
his greedy eyes feed.
There is nothing she can do.
She hears a belt
unbuckling,
a zipper
unzipping.
nothing she can do,
as he does what he does,
Every night.
She will have bruises on her hips.
The shape,
and size
of his hands.
She twists her head
and stares at shadows.
Imagining life before
Rape.
Life before pain.
Life when it was still
good.