Infectious plum

I just lost again.
Another day to wonder why
I'm blue and black in the name of heart.
I call you in
the middle
of the night and expect
you'll jump
into your car and
wait for the ambulance to hail their wicked scream
through my bloody ears.
They'll patch me up on the floor
as I'm lying on my side,
shaking
at the thought of you seeing
the night in it's infectious plum wonder and I wonder
if you are still
fond of me
or shy of the spark as I no longer have the spark in my eyes.
Frightened.
A broken deer you curl into your
arms and kiss
armed and loaded with these kisses you insist
will take the bruises away
and then you'll let me go,
get back
into your car and
drive
because you know it's what you have
to do.
It is what I would expect of you
until it's not only fondness we feel
but love, completely captured when I cry.
You're completely dazzled when I smile, do not spoil our outright shock
when you curl me into your arms
and carry me to your
car, with you hand between my thighs
to show me the difference
between fondness, domestic violence and love.