Gaslight prose draft

I stand here under the golden dim of the gas light. 

As I have for fifteen years.

Afraid to move or relieve myself from this plight,

afraid to give up the fight. 

 

The yellow cast of sulfur light washes the color from my face,

denuding my visage of its true colors

humiliation my badge

waiting for time to turn wrongs to right

making great attempts not to cadge

 

Who knew the torture had a name?

A phrase for his invalidating ways

I was part of his control game

Oh how the heart betrays

 

Instilled doubt denudes reality

overwhelms perception

Ceases to honor boundaries

draws the real truth away like a siphon

 

I doubt my world

I doubt my sanity

retreat to the little girl

where I pray he can’t hurt me

 

I find myself isolated

try harder to do his right

all the while my sanity is debated

many cannot see my plight

 

His opinions are fact

His stories carry impact

deftly applied with great tact

He continues to distract as I slowly begin to crack

 

Shamed for standing up for myself

accused of abuse for reactions in self defense

suddenly comes the big crack in you health

up and over psychoses fence

 

Borderlines feel like the victim

Narcissists make you theirs

wisely fear the narcissist’s conviction

while you marinate in you own despair

 

go ahead and run circles around me 

It doesn’t make you right, 

only lies presented cleverly

In the dimness of the gaslight

Charlotte von Wolfle Greer