“A Montrouge- Rosa La Rouge”
Henri Toulouse-Lautrec
1.
she sips on her second glass of red wine
the excitement of the bar softens
as she feels
the softness of the liquid flowing over her lips
the richness coating her mouth
she takes her final sip
savouring the ample flavour
she stands up, ready to leave
suddenly face to face with him
she’d never seen such a fair man
his eyes
a swirling pot of warm honey
she was
struck
2.
she greets him in front of the restaurant
trying to push away her frustration from the past hour
running around her room nearly in a sweat
deciding which dress to put on
to make him yearn for her
to take it off
they sit down at a table
she feels her nerves from the past hours
ease
as their night begins
they discuss their luck
of the newly-formed line outside the restaurant
that they
beat
3.
they had never fought like this before
she didn’t understand what she did wrong
were they speaking two different languages?
his lips were moving but she didn’t know
if any sound was coming out
she felt like she was watching a movie of themselves
this couldn’t be them fighting
they loved each other
she wish she hadn’t said anything
her mind was drowning in
regrets and remorse
she didn’t recognize the man in front of her
the eyes she had once fallen in love with
were now filled with hatred
she knew that like their other fights
this one was certainly her fault
he made that clear
when he held her against the wall
as he
howled
4.
he apologized
always
she would convince herself that she was lucky
that she had such a remorseful man
one that could learn from his mistakes
but inside her broken soul
she felt as though
she was the mistake
how else could such a perfect man become so
different
he only became that way with her
when she closed her eyes for too long
she could re-live each battle
it must be her fault he would get so angry
if she’d just learn to do as he said
sit quietly
look pretty
maybe she wouldn’t have to
suffer
5.
she’d wake up
not knowing the fine line between
dreams and reality
she was reliving each day
over and over
a routine of all her mistakes
adding up to what she deserved
she was lost in a nightmare
unable to pinch herself
to wake up
she couldn’t forget anymore
with every night’s battle engraved onto her body
each morning
greeting the new additions of his rage
imprinted on her
flesh
claire pontefract's blog 
Je reste bouche bée!
Wow, what a powerful, disturbing and oh so sad piece of writing. This will strike a huge chord with anyone who’s been in a coercive relationship. A very frightening place to be. On the creative writing topic, have you tried using a picture, like Hopper’s Nighthawks or The Automat to stimulate a stream of consciousness piece of first person creative writing. You become the woman in the picture as you develop your thoughts and feelings, hopes and dreams. It’s so immediate! Put your pen on the paper and just write, ignoring punctuation, spelling, grammar etc. It’s a fab exercise in spontaneous, original writing. Give it a try and surprise yourself! Love, Jane x
Wow – somehow I missed reading this one. What a powerful, brilliant poem, Claire. I remain completely in awe of your creative writing. You make me proud. xo