The lips quivered; the lips quivered against
an unknown figure.
The lips pained for warmth and felt nothing of the sort.
Blue, was the colour of this season.
The lips turned to find beauty,
but pain was this season’s accessory.
The lips went back home.
To the lips, that crackled and croaked.
To the lips that hurled abuse, that spat.
To the lips that bit her, to the lips that hurt her.
To the lips that were hers in writing, to the lips with a ring on.
To the lips that fed her, bathed her, raped her, hurt her, disfigured her, spoilt her.
To the lips that said they ‘loved’ her.
To the lips that said “I am sorry” but pushed the knife in, deeper every time