D Is For Domestic

Any time she spoke, he scowled.
But she spoke anyway.
Carefree and interesting was how she initially thought of him.
Dashing and handsome too.
Every head turned, every eye stared when he walked into a room.
For her, he was “the one”.
Gone though were the good days.
Here were the bad days.
If only she didn’t love him.
Just like her mum with her dad.
Kisses and punches are interchangeable.
Love and hate are bedfellows.
Marks on the body, not seen.
Not that stupid you see.
Or brave.
Punched on the back, she tumbled down the stairs.
Quietly she sobbed.
Running down her face, blood mixed with tears.
She needed to find the courage to leave.
Tomorrow. It’s always tomorrow.
Until she found it, nothing would change.
Vomiting, she decided it was time.
Waiting till he was asleep, she delivered the blows.
Xenolithic rocks can cause a skull to smash.
Yelps permeated the air as she exacted her murderous revenge.
Zigzagging through the streets, she smashed through the riverside barrier and to her watery grave.

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One Response to D Is For Domestic

  1. alienorajt says:

    Powerful, disturbing and written in a spare style which really works. Very impressed by this piece.

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