deepundergroundpoetry.com
back hand insignia
I’m always waiting for the back hand
that leaves my face indented with the insignia
of your roughened hands
calloused from fights and lighter fluid accidents
drenched in the scent of stale whiskey
we’re a drunken tug-of-war
unbalanced and chaotic
where I’m a sucker punch waiting to happen
and you’re a victim all over again
we’re lovers and fights
flirts with loaded guns aimed at each other’s heads
waiting for a deviance to pull the trigger
that’ll leave one or both of us bleeding
I fell in love with the pain of you
and turned you into the weapon of my self-destruction
even in these peaceful hours I’m still waiting
for the burn of your back hand insignia
the masochist in me desperate to invoke your rage
so we can go one more round
and leave more scars to remember
we were here
© 2012
that leaves my face indented with the insignia
of your roughened hands
calloused from fights and lighter fluid accidents
drenched in the scent of stale whiskey
we’re a drunken tug-of-war
unbalanced and chaotic
where I’m a sucker punch waiting to happen
and you’re a victim all over again
we’re lovers and fights
flirts with loaded guns aimed at each other’s heads
waiting for a deviance to pull the trigger
that’ll leave one or both of us bleeding
I fell in love with the pain of you
and turned you into the weapon of my self-destruction
even in these peaceful hours I’m still waiting
for the burn of your back hand insignia
the masochist in me desperate to invoke your rage
so we can go one more round
and leave more scars to remember
we were here
© 2012
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