Torn Stockings

I think this piece had its roots here in a post at the brilliant The World Outside the Window.  Please stop by and read.  I hope I do it justice.

There’s no shyness
Just a face full of angles,
Masked, painted, but
Hard lines,
Broken stare, reveal
A past full of brutal lessons,
Bruises and scars that blush and lie hidden,
Tears that no child should cry,
Where no one listens to despair
And no one asks
Why?
And escape is abuse
Written as sorrow
In arms that mark
Because it’s learnt,
Because it’s known
To a damaged heart
Painfully living
In a world of cheap tarts and torn stockings
There’s no shyness
Just a face full of angles
Masked, painted
And laid on his back.

Copyright ©RMC March 2018