Escape (revised)

Escape


She faked it. It was the only way
out. As he rolled on top of her smelling
of stale tobacco and cheap bourbon,
she secretly plotted his death.
A rare poison perhaps?
What about a radioactive particle
of some sort?


Her soft moans came more rapidly
than before, until she panted, cooed,
sweat rolling down her cheeks.
Or were they angry, salty tears? Only she
knew the answer to this impossible question.


After he left for his job that day, grabbing
green, canvas suitcases from the closet shelf,
she packed as much clothes and mementos
as she dared. No need for murder.
The 5:40 plane would fly her to freedom,
cutting the plush clouds with razor sharp
wings. Could he find her? Chase her around
the mulberry bush, hoping not to get tagged?
Even gossamer truths don't speak.


Control was his even in her quietest of moments,
even in distorted dreams. Somehow,
he had invaded her soul to the point
that she did not recognize herself
in a melting mirror. Did she deserve a tyrant
who would nullify her hope, trust, and love?
It was simple; she had emotionally
collapsed, to the precious point
that she fantasized about her own death.
In fact, she had almost embraced it.
Even alive, she would be among the walking
wounded. Was it possible, just possible,
that any man would ever regain her trust
again, someone that could love, cherish,
and respect her?


But that was to be part of the a life lesson,
and new frontiers were now to be forged
by her, happily so, courage born in jasmine
fields and clover skies. And she cherished
the revelation.