half-way through the drumroll night

glass crackling, down 

a spinal cord wrapped around his hands

his words  

shoved down her throat, puncturing her veins

still she remains - 

knees, faithful to the bedroom floor wood 

 

one more autumn day, one more time

he threatens to break her skull 

with the blunt side of guilt

blaming her eyes for every tear he’s cried

her heart, for every lonesome night

guilt - glass shattered on the kitchen floor 

cuts through her like iron melting plastic 

words like flames

still she stays - 

hands, branded together - clenched for a breath

 

still she stays, 

elbows resting on rusted bedsheets

bruised from pleading for relief 

 

guilt resounds in the shape of gunshot 

echoes the image of a canyon carved in her lover’s head 

 

still she prays