Poetry And Other Things

Seven

Seven tears are shed at seven am on a Sunday. Sunday is the seventh day of the week.
Seven unread messages on phone that sit up a seven inch coffee table, seven knocks can be heard coming from the door to the apartment. The apartment is on the seventh floor. Seven seconds, it takes seven seconds for her to answer the door. It takes seven footsteps furious for him to walk in the apartment, she takes seven step back. Together that equals fourteen but remember she took steps back so it's only seven. He yells seven words at her, mostly empty threats. Five of those words are empty threats, two are command. Together that makes seven. She slaps him and he takes seven seconds to react. He hits and kicks her several time, she has seven purple bruises on her face. He drags her out of the apartment in seven seconds flat. She seven droplets of blood falls out of her mouth as she cries in the hallway, on the seventh floor.