She was huddled up in a corner,
a petite, swarthy woman.
Her eyes said, ‘fear‘ and shouted, ‘anger,’
sunken deep into their sockets.
That day when they exchanged vows,
clad in complementary black and white,
so sure was her heart, unlike now,
when wishes were all it conjured.
Her man was meant to be her man,
to kiss away her tears and fears.
Now his kisses were probably on ban,
and her cheeks were rarely dry.
I touch her arms, she wouldn’t budge,
‘Perhaps, he stalks,’ I think she fears.
‘I do not bear a grudge,’ she says,
‘I should not have agreed.’
- CONSTITUTIONAL FEAR (by Chimezie Chika) (angrypoets4women.wordpress.com)
- Rage (wordsrhymesandrhythm.wordpress.com)