your ocean eyes asphyxiate her,
ruthless possession and violent passion rakes across her skin
drawing lines of scarlet and tears

and she's like the e m p t y spaces in between sentences
-stabbed repeatedly with punctuation-
and the weight of his words left her:
colorless--carnation cheeks have fled long ago
(though sometimes i see a flowering bruise on her sternum 
looks like your fist, strangely)

but she still loves you,
she says, with a sterile voice.

and i can hear my heart crack.

1 comment:

  1. first aid classes are a bitch.

    and i love this, strangely enough.


Write your thoughts kindly, ... or at least as thoughtfully as you possibly could.