eggs burning

in the next

room,

skillet pan

sizzling

with no

relief,


blind sided

by her

awkward

cantaloupe

smile,

her Sunday

best

dress torn

from a

tug and

a pull,

I stumble like

a one legged

man in

full retreat.


having met

my match

and then

some.

bruised with

purple

spots

all up

and down

my face.

because

I lacked

the courage

to say

what had

to be said.


love is

a two

legged

beast,


that can

rise up

and kick

you in the

teeth,

as easily

as wake

you up

with the

tenderness

of kisses

in the

morning

light.


or was

it the

cheap

bottle

of whiskey

flying

across the

room at me

that took

it's toll?


to sober

up in

her hell

bent fire

is to

leave this

world

and never

see the

light again .



begging for

forgiveness

taking the

marks upon

my back

for regret.


pity the

savior who

comes


after me.