Your violence was our ending, the moment you threw your fist
didn't matter if it was at someone else, at their face, their
chest, or arm, could have been the fucking wall for all I care:
End.
What happens when you cheat on me and I call you out on your lies?
Will you be swinging at me when you're full of rage and anger?
What happens when I piss you off so much you finally snap and yell?
Will you slap me during sex, slap me to the floor?
End.
Wow. Um, wow.
What's going on,dear?
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Ha, nothing. Trying to write from the point of view of "what if." Like how would i react if my man was lashing out in anger. Would I have the strength to dump him immediately regardless of context with his fist through a wall, or in a brawl at the bar?
Does drunk fighting indicate he'd hit me some day? More a philosophical poem, but as a self proclaimed "imagiste" got to use the images.
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Oh good. Your writing is too vivid. Easy to think it's real.
Glad it's a story.
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huge compliment! Love it! Thank you :)
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