The Keyhole

We would peek through the keyhole
when we heard that sound.
The sound of hand meeting skin and bone.
The screams, the pleas
the cries, the moans.
Never ending, never ending.
I could not bear it,
my tiny body shaking with fear
but she, she alone
made me look.
Time and again, while whispering
softly in my ear.
Remember this, remember this
and I would.

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About Cassiopeia Rises

I am an artist and a poet writing and living in NYC.
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4 Responses to The Keyhole

  1. Kavita says:

    Many images flashed in my mind…
    But to a child, they are DEFINITELY scary !
    Sent chills down my spine… brrr..

    • Cassiopeia Rises says:

      Much thanks Kavita. Childhood in many way can be am endless nightmare.In dreams or reality a child remembers.

      Melanie

  2. This is horribly good…

  3. Cassiopeia Rises says:

    Much thanks my friend. Living through childhood memories and writing about them is very hard. It all brings back one’s feelings.

    Melanie

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