Thirty-eight Percent

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By Debbie Taggio

He won’t do it again
He promised
Brown petals fall from roses
Replaced by new blooms
Red.
He sees red, quick to anger
I stay quiet – do everything right
A mouse, scuttling along skirting boards
Hold still; it hurts less that way
Violet this time
Secret marks, hidden
I make sure, no walking into doors for me
He won’t do it again
He loves me
‘You’ve got a keeper there,’ they say
Broken.
Broken jaw, broken ribs, broken promises
Broken spirit.
Yellow now,
Fading bruises, fading self
Pushed too far
Silver, steel…
He won’t do it again
I love you.

6 thoughts on “Thirty-eight Percent

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