Dry skin,
****** nose,
cracked lip,
bruised knuckles.

Shattered vase,
empty bottle,
hair ties,
leather belt.

Closed eyes,
stinging palm,
sore cheek,
***** breath.

One word,
one thought,
one plea:
*Stop.

Flowers sway in summer’s breeze,
regardless of the coming freeze.
Flowers dance in warm sunlight,
approaching clouds a far off plight.

We must have been flowers
grown with limited hours.
We were happy
until we weren’t.