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eviscerated

 
My arm swings up in an arc
landing the broken
beer bottle in your
stomach.

People in the parking lot
scream and pull out their
phones to record

as I rip up,

spilling your
goddamn guts
on the puke-covered
pavement.

I grab the front of your
shirt so I can watch
the light fade
from your
eyes
and follow
you to the
ground.

When the police
finally pull me off
they have to use
pepper
spray to get
my bloody hand
out of my pants.

Because I can’t stop
coming at the
sight of the
rain filling your
empty eyes.



Written by Betty
Published
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