A thing that remains after
is finished or ended.

What is
from rape?

I was six,
at first.
He was
In a child’s eyes
all men are

The making of this dish
was heat
in slow coils of electric
dark-haired arms
small limbs
like bird bones and a
fluttering heart.

my history grows like neon
mold, rainbows of color
sick twisting of life
on leftovers.

I am tired of taking
apart words to
find their meanings.


Written in response to The Daily Post writing challenge for this week,here. Poem by Annie Jadin, speakingvoiceless.wordpress.com.

135 thoughts on “Leftovers

  1. I have read it a twice over now and the words, their hidden secrets carry so much weight. Light and dark, innocence and power. Did you write it in one sitting, I feel two moods?

    Liked by 2 people

    • This was a one-sitting poem. I’m not surprised that two moods come across. I think it is impossible for me to think about this subject matter and have just one mood or emotion in my head. Thank you for reading. πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: An Unfinished Melody (Piano Cover of “Sleepless Beauty” by Ryuichi Sakuma) | Ramisa the Authoress

  3. Pingback: Shared from WordPress | wasp0754's Blog

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