Modern slavery in comfort.

I walked to the store.  I am a slave.
I idled in the rows of shelves. I am a slave.
I brought out my debit card.  I am a slave.
I purchased food for my children.  I am a slave.
A man gawked at me in the street and I hurried away.  I am a slave.
I saw myself in a store window, a woman.  I am a slave.
I depend on my husband's income,  and the monthly payment from our Lord and masters.
I am a slave.
One day,  these shackles will fall.

Jar of memories.

I'm awake, still dreaming.
Memories influencing my every move.
I'm rolling in the sheets, aggressive motions.
Trying to find the exit.
Breathe deep, I'm still drowning.
Deep inside the mental traps.
Awaken me,  or I'll do it myself.
Scrape the memories off like tar,  and shove it in a jar.

Sweet cocaine

I'll never forget how you taught me to love, to smile,  or to feel so fiercely.
I will always remember how you would stroke your thumb along my temple, flowing with my curves all the way to my waist.  I memorized your smile,  the way you loved all the pieces of me you put back together.  We flowed as one, an entity that separated and meshed as one and many.

Slowly I saw you as you were, before you blinded me with your fire.  I saw the fire for what it was.  A force to be reckoned with,  not fireworks that I had felt inside.  Too late,  your poison had spread.  I left you,  my sweet cocaine.  You left without leaving me your antidote.

Frame of memory

Tendrils of moisture run down the window frame,
Washing away the summer grime. 
Cannot wash away the thoughts of you, 
Everlasting scars in my limbic system. 
I sometimes get lost in limbo,  between the nickel and the gold. 
Memories swarming like locusts unleashed upon the sky. 
Do I ever need some insecticide.