Monday, September 22, 2008

The Last Smack - Hayley Darpel

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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