Tears rolling
Blood spilling
She was soaking
In the tub crying
Her wounds were hurting
Every dawn and dusk
His fist was his weapon
Battering was his art
His regrets
He gave her as gifts
The 'sorry' word was her mantra
She meditated
And prayed
And hoped
He would change
Until the last sound she heard was a blow
It triggered a mass flow
Of blood spill on the floor
It diminished her glow forever
His last gift to her; a wreath on her grave
