the pang never hit me hard and fast like the ****** of a sword into the bullβs back no blood left my body as you, the matador buried the dagger in the ***** you once called home i lay under you unfazed by the blow spectators whirling flags and cheering you on. when this is all done donβt drag me to the stall to plaster my ruptured heart as you would a bedroom wall leave it dispersed in the dirt, I don't need it after all.