She sits,
As the cigarette smoke smothers her eyes.
She sits,
And tastes the wine with its rotten, crumbling cork.
She sits,
Like a happy snap-shot, with a smile that is not there.
She sits,
Solitary, in silence as the party surrounds.
She sits,
And hears all the ‘tellings’ of parental warnings.

She fears,
The drunkards breath, laced with lustful words.
She fears,
The bile of forgotten pills, burning her throat again.
She fears,
The dust collecting on anniversary glasses.
She fears,
The taps and scratches on the window three floors up.

She feels,
The toxic bleach, peeling away delicate layers.
She feels,
The uncracked pepper-corn, crushed ‘tween teeth and tongue.
She feels,
The flowers cling to life - the vase empty of water.
She feels,
The stabbing at her secret imagination.
She feels,
Part of “It” without express permission.

Alice Anne Gordon

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/paranoid-perceptions/