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Wednesday, 5 June 2013

Lest We Forget

You gave me flowers, plucked
from a bed of rose
You picked well – that time –
fresh, young, vulnerable.
Your princess

plied with missing
pieces – filled a
I was not loved,
not wanted,
until you.

You filled me with your
alcohol, cocaine. Injected
against my…
love… my four
letter word.

I tried to talk, to run,
couldn’t form the words, so
inappropriate –
this love,
amongst the gravestones.
Terrorised, tortured – I trusted

you. Inhuman –
soul departed – that day you plucked
flowers, for young girls,
between the tombstones
of abuse.

©Carolyn Cornthwaite

Carolyn writes poetry, flash fiction, short stories and has almost completed the first draft of a novel. She dreams of Booker prizes and a life in France and blogs at http://wimpywriter.com/


  1. Powerful stuff - and not only we must not forget, this must never happen again.

  2. Thanks Little Nell, and you are so right - this must stop; sadly I worry that there will be other poems to write as such tragedies seem to continue.

  3. Carolyn, beautifully written. The trust forever lost. I adore your last verse most especially the 'tombstones of abuse.' Beautifully told and captured. And yes, sad to say, these tragedies continue but it is in writing like this we can bring light to it all!! Thanks for the lovely read.

  4. Thanks for your comments Mari and I will continue to write as long as is necessary.