Froggacuda's Weblog

He hit her
Across the mouth
With the back of his hand.
I could taste her blood;
Run, salty tears
Her lip bitten, hurt
He stood over her, threatening
Displeased,
Tensed to kick her.
He did.
Sweet Jesus;
I can’t watch,
Disinterested and clinical.
I can’t look away somewhere
Pretending not to see it happen.
The party when on;
He picked her up
And she followed him away.
I bet she has before.