REMOTE CONTROL. A dark poem

This poem is personal and shows how memories and people, even deceased ones, can still haunt us despite the passage of time,

Remote Control

After all these years
you still have control.

I'm powerless, listening
to your filthy, foul-mouthed rantings.

I dare not glance away, lest
you threaten to smash my head
to a pulp again,

your lips curl with venom
as they spit more expletives,

fists clenched,
eyes wide and staring, as you
punch the wall.

Shattered plaster drips blood
and I notice that hole in the door
needs filling.

I want to run, but you're faster

You goad me to fight back but
I'm numb - would say or do
the wrong thing.

It used to take very little.

A spilt teacup or forgotten ingredient
for lunch,

trivialities, but not to you.

How is it I still want you?
long for your weight on mine.

Still desire those looks
that first drew me to you.

then....

I am awake, steeped in sweat;
my heart exploding in my chest.

You still wield control,
even from your grave. 

(C)   Ann Wilson