The cracks appeared but
they were not like those
that you see as you walk
a pavement, chasing the
gaps that parted, each
cemented slab,
they were more like
shattered pieces of glass
that formed on a marble
floor as you threw down
the champagne flute
hurt, angered
passion rearing its head
a mixture of pleasure
and pain
relieving the numbness -
the pleasure
reliving the past -
the pain
Lipstick marked partial
pieces of glass, matching
the blood that began to
seep from her hand as
she collated the pieces
scarring the floor
droplets fell, she brought
her palm to the side
taking up the blood
into her parted lips
loosely letting go of
any glass in
the palm
of her
hand
On her knees she lifted
her body
slowly
he took his Prada shoe
kicking her
a blow to the stomach
knocking her
to the floor below
she missed the glass
table
by mere inches
saving her head from
a similar blow
As he walked
away,
he flicked his cigar
unfinished, on her
barely clothed body
and from a distance
spat and cursed in
his mother tongue
"Puttana!"
"Ti disprezzo!"
She kept her head down
her hair knotted in
the smashed glass,
picking the stem of the
hollow flute, she
threw it
flying through the air
hitting him,
to the shin
*"Son of a *****
The words, pulsated
through the air
bouncing off all four
walls,
she held no regrets
she had become accustomed
to the repercussions of her
own counter attacks
she didn't even quiver
They had fallen
convicted criminals
of passion and pain
numbness
reality a daze
blood and fire
alight
Neither left the room
until the following
morning
whiskey bottles emptied
clothes disarrayed
blood on the walls
In this fight between
passion and pain
neither would leave,
abandon this disrupted
****** up ship
"Stay!"
the only word she
would murmur
when all was
said,
and done.
© Sia Jane
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
The cracks appeared but
they were not like those
that you see as you walk
a pavement, chasing the
gaps that parted, each
cemented slab,
they were more like
shattered pieces of glass
that formed on a marble
floor as you threw down
the champagne flute
hurt, angered
passion rearing its head
a mixture of pleasure
and pain
relieving the numbness -
the pleasure
reliving the past -
the pain
Lipstick marked partial
pieces of glass, matching
the blood that began to
seep from her hand as
she collated the pieces
scarring the floor
droplets fell, she brought
her palm to the side
taking up the blood
into her parted lips
loosely letting go of
any glass in
the palm
of her
hand
On her knees she lifted
her body
slowly
he took his Prada shoe
kicking her
a blow to the stomach
knocking her
to the floor below
she missed the glass
table
by mere inches
saving her head from
a similar blow
As he walked
away,
he flicked his cigar
unfinished, on her
barely clothed body
and from a distance
spat and cursed in
his mother tongue
"Puttana!"
"Ti disprezzo!"
She kept her head down
her hair knotted in
the smashed glass,
picking the stem of the
hollow flute, she
threw it
flying through the air
hitting him,
to the shin
*"Son of a *****
The words, pulsated
through the air
bouncing off all four
walls,
she held no regrets
she had become accustomed
to the repercussions of her
own counter attacks
she didn't even quiver
They had fallen
convicted criminals
of passion and pain
numbness
reality a daze
blood and fire
alight
Neither left the room
until the following
morning
whiskey bottles emptied
clothes disarrayed
blood on the walls
In this fight between
passion and pain
neither would leave,
abandon this disrupted
****** up ship
"Stay!"
the only word she
would murmur
when all was
said,
and done.
© Sia Jane
One of a few being edited - so this is a draft as I learn to edit my very unedited work ;)