It’s not what you think…

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


A Poem

By  Christy Towle

A longing discovered.

Kept away by darkness and depression.

Milky dreams, flowing from brain to breast.

Spilling out into the world.

Nights of fantasy, desire and lust.

Fulfilling and sleepless.

Days spoken with smiles.

Wanting you to agree.

Needing you to want me, my milk, my love.

Wanting more than you can offer.

My head hangs low,

My breasts weep.

So close to being close.

So far from being reality.

I’ll bury my soul, again.

Waiting, if only, for one more night!



I do not own any rights to this gem, I found this on a site that no longer exists, and have no idea how to contact the original author. If you recognize the poem, feel free to share any information you have, I have no desire to steal credit.