Invisible

child abuse has many faces...

Most evenings she watches the sun set

through the auburn tinted glint of ice cubes

tinkling in tall glasses of Coca Cola and Lemon Hart rum,

the drink her parents and their many friends seemed to favour.

Above her head she watches smoke swirl in ever widening clouds
puffed out of the mouths of red-faced,laughing men;

their cigarettes hanging magically from opened lips,

dangling while they talk.

 

Her eyes follow the graceful filigrees of spiraling smoke

rising from the painted fingertips  of their shrieking women

laughing in high pitched excited squeals.
Within the bilious,depths of smoke she imagines faces

and wicked creatures pirouetting amid the poisons.

Wandering into the kitchen she takes a coke and

spikes it with some rum, never worrying about being caught
because walking among them she is invisible.

Long past midnight, the moon glazes her bedroom pearly white.
She watches shadows from the trees outside perform skeletal

dances on the bedroom wall.

Below her the music never stops.

Drunken singing, toe tapping and rhythmic stomps

reverberating throughout the house until dawn tiredly

blushes a waking horizon.

She tries to sleep but it's simply impossible.
She tries screaming, telling them to shut-up,

yelling until her throat is raw,

knowing they will never hear.
She even screams out nasty swear words

mimicking the laughing,the red-faced men,

not quite understanding what the words mean 

but certain they are bad, but it doesn't matter.

To them she doesn't exist.

She sometimes wonders if they are aware 

she can both hear and speak.

The thought amuses her and she smiles to herself

in the greying light of the dying night
certain they think her deaf.

She hears things things no little girl should ever have to hear.

Things that make her stomach feel sick and queasy.

Waking from a fitful sleep, she steps over strangers

sprawled out on the livingroom floor, 

creeping pass snoring bodies passed out on the couch.

The room stinks from the foulness of their breath.
But they never wake up because she is invisible.

The kitchen, as usual, is littered with empty bottles.

The countertops sticky with spilled drinks and the remnants

of last nights festivities cluttering the surfaces.

Dirty ash trays filled to overflowing are scattered everywhere,
the sink filled with last night's dishes.

They await her, until after school, 

the water grown rancid and cold.

Wiping off a bowl and spoon 

she hopes there is some cereal left.

If she is real lucky there might even be some milk today.
Glancing at the clock she sees she is is nearly late.

Without brushing her teeth or hair, 

she grabs a jacket and hurries to school.

The morning is cold and damp; the sky gun-metal grey.

Heavy clouds promise rain.

Her head feels groggy and her eyes sting 

from last night's smoke.

Entering the hallowed halls of the large, red-bricked school,

she scurries down the long empty corridor to her classroom.
She keeps her head down, there is no reason to look up.
After all, she's invisible.

Reviews

[Aimee Olivera]

Dear felioness,

Thank you very much for entering this poem in my competition "Topic Short Story or Poem", I am pleased to inform you that it has been awarded second place! (:
Despite it not being written specifically for my competition, your piece fits the theme well, this poem has a wonderful sense of structure and your use of wording is wonderful, this is amazing and I hope that you continue writing in the future.

Yours Sincerely,
Aimee Olivera

[felioness]

Thank you! I am honoured!!!

[Sterling]

Invisibility is such a heavy burden on a child. Those precious moments your parents wasted, just from your words I can tell you are truly a beautiful person. I cant imagine how they could ever rationalize there actions? Keep writing.

[felioness]

Thank you for your review and kind wordsn

[MichaelsLyric.com]

This makes me sad, makes me wish that I was a little boy, so I can keep her company. I am sure that many of us felt invisible, which is why this piece can connect with many. I appreciate this write, thank you.

[felioness]

Thank you for reading. It is sad.