Day: March 15, 2018


I look at the defenseless body,

Smug face,

Burgundy lipstick

Smeared off your thin,

Smirking lips.

My fist has the leftovers of it

Mixed with blood,

Yours and mine.

With every punch I throw at you

The anger recedes,

Leaving the fake righteousness

And a calmer breath.

It was not my place to mutilate you;

Just as much it was not yours

To lay where you did.

And as your face turns crimson

And covers the burgundy,

I tell you, it suits you better

Like this.