The Woman

The one lies in bed post-puke.

The other writes poetry on vodka.

A machiavellian nightmare

 hunting for space between thought.

Meting out pain in stanzas

too brittle to hold her

haikus too slim

For his mind.

shot, shot, shot, shot

 she is pregnant with abuse.

blood and water and pain

congratulate her

for being a woman.

 

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