GUEST POST: A MOONLIT SILHOUETTE – by Paul Griffiths in honor of Domestic Violence Awareness Month (October)

Even in the cold evening air she’s finding it hard to breathe.
She knows he’ll be home soon, her safest option is to leave.
It’s going to be one of those nights, she can feel the static in the air.
It feels safer to be somewhere else, anywhere but there.

She feels so forlorn tonight out on the street feeling so alone.
Freedom for a few hours is still freedom; she likes being on her own.
Lost in her own thoughts trying to escape from her own life.
Anchor chained to the kitchen sink, she’s feeling like a Stepford wife.

Heavy of heart and mind she bites down on her inner pain.
Thinking of nothing in particular, her self doubt still remains.
Her head is mixed up with the daily grind, she’s feelin’ so confused.
Is this what true love feels like, only to be left feeling used?

Promises get broken and the hurt of rejection always stings.
Trying to make sense of chaos from nonsensical stupid things.
Cut off from her friends, she feels empty and alone.
Knowing there’s another argument waiting for her back at home.

So she just keeps walking in the same old circles with no place to go.
Thoughts whizzing around her head, yet her footsteps seem so slow.
She used to be scared of her own shadow and afraid of the dark.
Now her shadow protects her, as they walk arm and arm in the park.

As the heavens open up above her and the rain begins to pour
She smiles through the tears but she can’t live like this anymore.
The outpouring can’t wash away that feeling that she feels like dirt.
Just can’t sugar-coat a back-hander; even the memory of it still hurts.

Walking and walking for hours until her poor feet start to ache.
Trying to decide what’s for the best and what path she should take.
As she comes full circle on herself and arrives back at the start.
Hoping things might be different as her world falls apart.

He always swears down that he’s sorry, this comes as no surprise.
She’s used to his bullshit; she’s a human polygraph machine with eyes.
But she doesn’t want to argue she is too emotionally drained to fight.
Still lost in her own little world walking the dead end streets at night.

It’s getting time to bite the bullet and return to a life of wedded bliss.
She never knows what mood he’s in when he’s been out on the piss.
The bus shelter looks so inviting, a safe harbour from the pouring rain.
Is it time to go home and face the music or go around and around again?

Eyes bulging with the weight of tears she wears a lost look on her face.
The lights are on at the window, so she quickly walks past her place.
Questioning her own existence, thinking is this as good as shit gets.
As she drifts back into the shadows to become a moonlit silhouette.

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