the bruises grow on her skin, blossoming like flowers across the pale sharp mountains of her shoulder blades… She loves you. You know this, and you love her back, but anger comes to you easier now, since you started drowning in the harsh smell of too much deodorant and alcohol. Every night she nurses you back from the brink of your livid state. Catching as you fall of the edge of your madness, and catching your blows as you toss them blindly. You wish it would just end. But that would be a mercy she refuses to provide. Your not surprised when you wake up one morning, sprawled on the floor the door wide open and home ravaged by your own drunken antics. She’s gone, you know she won’t come back. The person she fell in love with all those years ago has wasted away. . all thats left are the bruises, and tears that leak down the inside of your soul.