The Girl From Parkvale Road

The light in the hallway flickers only enough to see the shame held down beneath. Childhood smothered stifled stolen sold away slipped from trickled down cheeks covered and stained. Images loop on repeat where honesty doesn't exist. Faucets drip, air dead, time thickens like cement a tornado of shame permission not granted space invaded- worth deleted. Reality is not real when riding bikes isn't play. Trips downtown, dolls and ice cream sundaes are only diversions to divert attention to deconstruct memories that should be healthy. 

more to come...
Tiffani Powell
Copyright 2011