the sun doesn’t shine
in my world
and i wonder why

maybe it’s because i seem
to write my poems
in the clouds.

her voice cracks
her words tremble
her anger brings tears to her eyes
she clenches her jaw
she shuts her eyes, trapping her tears.

the wall is a punching bag
blood trickles down her fist
but she doesn't feel the pain
just the anger
white-hot burning anger.

in a glorious field of flowers
pick a flower
just one

and tear its petals off
as i would
your throat.