Posted on March 18, 2012 by A.H. Scott
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Tony –
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……….Well, let me first warn you about this poem. It’s definitely not erotic at all. It’s about domestic violence against women. I was inspired to write it after seeing an image on a poster of a battered woman. And, it just blew me away. “Hot and Cold” is the title and even if you don’t ever use this poem on your site, I just wanted to read it. Thanks for everything you’ve done in our collaboration so far, TW..;)
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HOT and COLD
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Hot is feel of every punch you leave upon my skin
Cauldron of words scorch the soul
Get it over with and leave me alone
It’s always the same, when you say it’s all my fault
My tears have all run dry
My heart has been hollowed out
Cold compress against my bruises I hold
Balled up fist cranked back for another punch
No longer do I scream, for you have taken my voice
Holding onto this floor, as if it were my safety blanket
Impression of your fist against my skin has formed several islands of pain
Black and blue and brown are some
Yet, those that have started healing are turning a yellowish hue
I’ll be the perfect wife
I’ll be the perfect cook
I’ll be the perfect f**k for you
Just don’t hit me again
I’ll be anything but your punching bag anymore
My voice has become a smothered whisper as I promise you on this floor
As your fist unclenched, you actually rub my back and walk away
Cold compress I press to my face
My soul is ripped and needs to be replaced
Heart that once was full of life, has now become shattered in your wake
I drag myself off this floor and make breakfast as I always do for you
You come into the kitchen, eat and everything is as if it never happened
A smile from your lips and a kiss on the cheek as you leave, lets my guard down again
That voice I had lost has started to peep, as I think about what I should do
Grabbing some things and tossing them in a bag isn’t easy, but neither is staying with you
I have a few hours before you come home
These are the moments I spend alone
Should I leave him?
Should I stay?
I walk into the bathroom with a lip bloodied and a tooth chipped and decayed
Cold water I splash across my face
My life here will end soon….
If I stay, it will be at his hands I shall leave
Yet, if I go, it will be my voice I am going to retrieve
Clothes are crumpled into a plastic bag and placed by the door
I look around at our home and it’s like I’m a stranger there now
Damnit, I can’t go
Damnit, I can’t stay
My heart says I love him
My body says no way
I’m GONE
I’m GONE
MY VOICE HAS RETURNED TO ME…..!!!
Copyright 2012
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About The Author: Draped in freedom’s spirit, A.H. Scott is a sizzling scribe of unveiling sensuality. Residing in New York City, this writer is armed with pouting pen of passion and pulsating digits pounding against keyboard. Between this lady’s manicured fingers, a snaggy stylus lacerates parchment and masticates digits against a misting keyboard towards a just climax literary longing. She’s a new voice and vision of fiction. who has been writing short stories and poetry ever since childhood.




























