The pillow muffled her screams
Absorbing tears pouring in streams
Years of abuse had been too much
Striking her…she yearned for a gentle touch.
The pillow…a silent witness to what she went through.
Her only ally, it suffered the cruelest view.
An odd sort of friend…but it knew all her secrets
It knew her strengths, she clung to it when she was weakest
She would whisper to it at night, when in great angst
She would lay on it when she prayed, for her life she gave thanks
The pillow would comfort her, cradling her head at night
She whispered, she would take it when she finally took flight
One dark night, an opportunity lent it’s way
Drunk he came home, and he started to sway
He passed out on the floor, where he had fallen down
She grabbed her clothes, her steps hastening on the ground
She turned to the door, then her pillow she remembered
They fled giving thanks, that dark, chilly November
Annette (Wengert) Tarpley
Pix prompt from “Global Ink”