That evening
Tears tired of running down your bruised cheeks, now taste like salt on your disfigured dry lips.
Those beautiful thick hair now disenchanted, disarrayed, disheveled fall over your dark eyes.
Those costly specs you wear now lay scattered somewhere on the floor.
Those fine china showpieces lovingly bought on your travels abroad, now lie shattered around you.
That chic white dress now stained with clotted blood, hang on to your body like broken wings.
You try to scream
but these four walls you call home,
got your tongue, your lungs, your will!
You try hard to remember love!
You think of your friends, your parents, your phone ..... your child....
there he is, standing by the door, watching you, wondering, clutching his teddy tight.
You force a smile across your face !
But tomorrow how will you explain the marks on your face to your maid, to your colleagues, to yourself....
And yet soon those scars, those bruises, those screams, those helplessness will hide beneath make-up,
and the hurt, the pain beneath make-belief!
It's only domestic you say, but it's violence we know!
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