I can hear the rustle of the sheets
He knows I’m not there
He’s looking for me
Soon he’ll be screaming
Flailing blindly in the dark
he won’t stop until I’m right where he wants me
I try to talk him down
explain that I just had to pee
shhh baby, please, you’ll wake the neighbors
He’s got a fistful of my hair now
He won’t listen to reason
He thinks I was trying to leave
He demands that I satisfy him
His hands grasping at my night shirt
I can feel his hot breath on my skin
I press my lips tightly together
trying to keep from screaming
Damn it, don’t touch me!
His nails claw at my skin
He misses the mark in his enthusiasm
as if we didn’t do this several times a day
My body is not my own
I have to dress for his convenience
I have to include him in all my planning
He falls asleep on my arm
a contented smile plays on his lips
He looks so angelic right now
I’m uncomfortable
I’m exhausted
I don’t dare move
I feel so guilty feeling like this
I know it’s probably the depression
Breastfeeding your son should be a beautiful thing
Original poetry by Jess Heart
copyright 2015
The Bosom Companion 