The Last Smack
Shaky, pursed line of contempt
his stormy gaze scalds my insides
waves of skin flow from my brow
fearful, but persistent
anything to change his mind
I raise my chin and peer
through polished emeralds
dripping with empathy in
hopes to rouse his love
but his razor sharp palm
draws back like a bow
out puffs the welt speckled with the
same purple blood he shares
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