WingSpan Poetry Project


Curses of the Purse

Leave a comment

I remember my foster mom’s purse
there were little bottles and syringes

I remember the day she would try to drown me
I remember she would beat me, squirt soap down my throat

I remember she would call me all kinds of nasty names
I remember her locking me in the closet for days at a time
with only a glass of water

I remember i would ask, “Why?” but never got an answer
I remember just a slap to the face

I remember the tears rolling down my face
I remember when I looked in the mirror seeing the blue, black, and red

I remember the blood rolling down my lip
I remember just wanting to be free

I remember these awful things
all because of the curses of her purse

I remember asking her when she’ll stop
only to get another slap then a punch
until I finally I saw stars

I remember crying most nights myself to sleep
I remember thinking I want my real mom

I remember blaming myself
I remember that she stuck me in the oven

I remember thinking I’m going to die
I remember her locking me in the basement with her husband

I remember those were the nights I bled the most
I remember all the pain

I remember just wanting it to end
I remember it was all because of the curses in her purse


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s