punch drunk over breakfast  ~  

polished nails dug into  
the delicate french pastry  
& tore it apart viciously ~  
... each motion deliberate  
almost sullen as she caught her breath  
waiting for the humiliation  
of being knocked flat  
to evaporate with the steam  
dancing off her coffee...  
*  
he didn't apologise  
for the last kick to her sternum
or the bruises that would later  
bloom across her protruding ribs
... but continued  
to calmly stir cream  
& sugar into his cup  
as though nothing had happened  
assuring her that though it hurt  
each time she drew a breath  
he knew nothing was broken...  
*  
her hair was still in disarray  
haphazardly pinned in place  
to keep the wet tangles  
from touching her face  ~  
... he looked as though he'd just stepped  
from the pages of a magazine  
unphased by her demeanour  
as cool & calm as always  
he ignored the drying tears  
which still marked the dark crescents  
that hung beneath her dead eyes ...  
//