The Dark Side Of The Moon

You push
I bruise my knuckles against the cold white wall.
Oh lord don’t let him chastise me
not again.
Forcing long hidden tears, from eyes
that try hard not to see his hurt climbing high
that wakes, the sleep at night. 

He talks explicit – I am a coward
no words heard, means
no replies needed.

For what could I say, though try, as I might
that could keep the lies hidden from view.

He thinks I see not his side-long looks
or those thoughts that I have learnt to read, like an open paged book.
I would rather he render me indifferent

the ice cold voice lost and forgotten in his gloom.

I wish
I wish
I want for his

now crumpled brain to be permitted, to peacefully
release its grip
think ill of me I do – I won’t dislike you!
How can I when you have no idea what its like.

He is asking me how I want my coffee
‘black’ I say, ‘black and strong’.

I want to hug him tell him it’s ok but he has
put his winter coat back on and soon will depart
to the:-

dark side of the moon…