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She looks at me with hatred in her eyes

And I want to weep.

He eyes rake up and down,

Taking in every imperfect inch.

When she speaks, it's with scorn.



I want her to love me.

I want her to smile.

But she won't, and now I'm angry.

She snarls vicious insults at me.

Her eyes burn with accusation.



We fight again.

The knife in my hand is stained

With her blood. Always the same

Weapon, the same hatred.



I love to see her bleed.

There's poetry in it, and pleasure.

She moans as crimson life seeps away

And now, satisfaction.



The blood, bright red, runs over

The dark brown stains

Of our last battle.



Our eyes meet.

There's sadness there,

And the knowledge that,

One day,

We may well kill each other.



I turn away

And try to sleep.