A Bed Time Story

I dared to be more than your blood that drowned my veins

Under my own skin and bones.

To be more than your venomous words,

Your breath drenched in whiskey.

I yearned for your love in my childhood bedroom at three,

Only for a distilled bruise to be displayed precariously under my right eye.

The friction from your fingertips,

Causing tears to form but not to fall,

Like a dam in the mere fall of Summer. 

Cries in my throat grew transparent,

A prisoner within the echoes of your slander

Guarded by a fire-breathing monster who drinks to a slumber.

Though,

You are the wicked witch

And I,

A damsel in distress.

Once upon a time...

I dreamed a fairy godmother

Would save me from my prison,

That is my home.