Burning eyes stand out from the crowd,
Full of more than laughter-
Contempt, cruel, anger.
Tight clothes cling to her unforgiving body,
Where curves are forming.
To me it looks like she swallowed her pitchfork.
Her low swooping bangs and high cheekbones
Shadow the passage to her insides.
I can see the rage though.
It shows in her ruby face.
She slightly parts her lips,
I expect to see a serpent slick past her Sahara dessert lips,
To make its exit,
With her cold, decrepit heart in tow.
Words are forming on her sand colored lips.
I have never met someone,
With lips so repulsive.
I see words slipping and tripping off her whip for a tongue.
I read once that Egyptians invented whips where they tied dog bones at the ends, so they would pierce the skin faster and deeper.
Somehow I don’t know who caused more damage.
The Egyptians?
Or her?
As the sound waves fight their way to my ears, I realize those waves are really a black widow spider.
She lashes at me so quickly,
I only for an instant see that tease of red on the underside of her belly.
Then I feel it.
Something inside me snaps like a twig.
Kind of like the slow torture some collapsation of a fortress.
I think of what revenge would be like.
Perhaps the sweet and sour taste of smoke.
Or the relaxing indulgous plumes of incense burning.
But in the end I know revenge would just be damaging to me.
I look back at her another time.
I am in two places at once.
I am drawn within myself.
I cast my feelings directly at her.
Let her know that what she says hurts, with a tinge of fear
exposing my weakness.
And hope that one day she will atone for what she has taken from me.
Peace.