Fight Cries his Fist

A squeaky door makes

The nightmare of my bruised life

Sound like the ants in my

Cupboard going for their daily chores

He “I love you” sound

The hurricane of my soul

Withering away to hollow

Touches that turns

To musical notes on my flesh

Gazes at the mirror

And I ask

“just maybe I deserve it

He nods and says

“But i do love you”

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