Watery Grave

Hate runs black

staining pristine

marble tiles.

Inking a portrait of

confined rage.

Chaos is the colors

of blue and purple

bruised lips and

swollen eyes after she’s

had too much to drink.

Love has run cold like

her body in the swamp

for the gators.

Peace is knowing I’ll

never hear her

screeching voice again

telling me I’m not man

enough.

She pushed me into sweet

insanity, her disparaging words.

I needed her gone, silenced.

It’s amusing, a joke when

a woman abuses a man,

but who’s laughing now?

©privatethoughtsmadepublic.2017.

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Watery Grave

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s