there she sits,
the loveliest creature
in the room.
those luscious lips
bloody red and swollen
from last night's argument.
her eyes are done up
in the most perfect purple-green
from his fists,
her cheeks a rosy pink
from his open palm.
this beautiful battered angel
whose tear-stained eyes call to me,
save me, help me
take me away.
little does she know
the beauty i find in her,
that heated passionate grace.
i would only do worse.
i love finding things from the way-back machine
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
It hurts read'n it .
why thank you darlin'. that may be the best compliment i've ever had on poetry
Post a Comment