The Woman in Apt. 222

Photo by Casila - Apt. at Night

I smell liquor on your breath
as you breathe on my neck
and cover my face with hard kisses
smearing lipstick across my mouth,
You wipe my tears
down my face with my mascara
as if wiping away your crime,
love has surely died.
It feels like a service
when you leave your fingerprints 
on my body at night.   
I’m hostage to this pain
again, because 
he pays all of the bills, and I
can’t find a job.

I know when the night gets darker
this floor is going to get colder under these
pink lace boy shorts, I know these tears 
are going to flow warm down my face
and tickle the top of my breast, and I know
that this MD 20/20 will be my company, 
and liquid courage will encourage me to leave.
Ow Lord, in my darkest moments
I’d rather you just take me. 
I have no where to go
and everybody knows, 
he beats me.

Yeah, you know the woman in apartment 222
I feel so sorry for her, why don’t she just leave.
That’s why I rarely come outside!
Cause I know all of y’all are gossiping about me,
but ain’t got two pennies to rub together to help!
Y’all could at least call the police!
Somebody, please! 
When you hear me scream!
When you hear the breaking through the wall!
When you hear me begging him to stop!
When you hear my cries!
When you hear me gasp for air!
Somebody, please!
Try to save me.

Another poem to read: The Woman