Poetry Blog by Kayleigh Denton

He pins me to the ground, and whispers into my ear. “Why are you still around? Nobody really wants you here.”

I yell no, try to fight him off, beg and plead. There is no point, he’s staying, I can’t help but take heed. 

This dark entity, this monster who lives in my head. This bully who won’t give up until I am dead.

Will I ever take control of this fight, and break free? Or will this for...

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Time has passed, and it's hauntingly clear that my dream of reconciliation is smashed, minuscule shards of glass on the floor.

Even in this moment, when all is said and done, despite the acidic lies we've both been force-fed from Jekyll and Hyde wannabes, every tiny string within my dead and blackened heart yearns for you.

I'm aware that I'm poison. A cascade of emotional instability, with m...

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Days pass me by, weeks and months, half a year.
Yet the empty carcass of our tainted love lingers near.
Each night is hard to bare, dark, lonely, icy cold.
Without your comforting embrace, without you here to hold.
I try distraction, try anger, try passing fancies too.
But it's futile, nothing compares to the perfectly imperfect you. 

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Small, subtle, barely there, and ever so slight. 
Were the precious little flutters I felt first tonight.
Faint waves of hello, I am here, feel my touch.
I knew then, my child, I adored you so much.
Ten fingers, ten toes, would you have daddy's eyes?
Would you sleep through the night? Or wake Mama with your cries?
Such questions left unanswered, our time tainted from the start.
But remember...

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Eyes are the windows to the soul, so they say.
Well yours, my darling, all but take my breath away.
Inviting, captivating, and mesmerising beauty.
Pools of stardust, that twinkle, glitter, sparkle so cutely.

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Three times a mother, factual, though agonising to accept.
You asked me where my children are, I merely wept.
You see dear, my motherhood is not one of physicality.
It is that of the heart, of the soul, spirituality.
It is true that when a child is born, crying, alive.
A mother's will is to protect it, a goal to which she will strive.
But what happens when but a faint heartbeat fails to be?
...

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‪Memories.

Those of pain.

Blotches of red smear my cheek.

On first glance, appearing strong. Though deep within, I am weak.

Tear stained pillow. Soaked with grief. Late at night. My only friend.

Eyes pinged open. Knotted stomach. Sadness. Longing for an end.  

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