He rolls home at an unearthly hour
covered in a new shade of lipstick
Perfume and a note stuck to his pocket.
She waits, patiently, till she spots him
singing at the top of his voice.But no more.
Panic grips his throat, silences his joy.
A tired hand whizzes across his cheeks
a red reminder that satisfies her anger
Questions, upon questions are fired
like a bullet from a gun.
She wants answers, no more patience.
What is done is done.
She drags his weary sack of bones he's tired
She wants revenge.
He wants to sleep.
She wants to weep.
He's out like a lark.
When loves turns dark.