Lives of the lovers, the kindred fatals.

Lives of the lovers, the kindred fatals.

Entwined souls of the hipped joined lovers.The smiling woman and the scowling man.His fist just might upper cut a delicate cheek.

That throwing down the stairs can fuck you up, or at least put you in a wards bed.They hold hands and read Sylvia Plath together. Manic depression should be his name.

They go to Paris, in her hope of the passion to outgrow it self.That happens with the rages instead.

She forgets to put peppers in the left hand draw in the corner of the fridge. She then has to go to the doctors for a broken hand.

The frown from the kindred turns to a delicate insult.Then the delicate insult to a swear filled one and then she responds back....

The first offical slap and she goes to her friends house. But staying with 3 kids and a another married couple is not the one.

After a desperate attempt of finding a flat, she returns to the kindred spirit she longs for.A slap then a trip to Venice. Cold milk over her midnight curls and she gets another salon trip to have her hair straightened; he likes it that way.A kick in the pregnant belly and the baby dies but they're at it soon after.She is going mad inside but loves the scowler. Eventual periods of time are taking place; for mental breakdown is not a quick thing.

She thinks its her fault even though its not.She thinks she has no one even though people are there for her.She tries to avoid the inevitable egg shells but cracked they already were. It just took time for them to be seen.As each slap is becoming more and immune for him; the pain is fresh for her.The what if's and buts and hows are emerged but ignored.A fairly confident woman is now reduced to a wreck inside; a pretender she is now.A smile from her colleague at a mutual party and she knows what will happen when she gets home.

The living shit will be battered and kicked out of her.The lengendary beating is her last.

She runs like an animal unleashed into the wild.She's one of the lions now who looks as though she's gonna eat that cub.

Bit by bit she was moving her clothes out with her prized possessions.She's heading somewhere else after 5 years of captivity with a beast.The scowler only finds her letter after washing his bloodied belt and cleaning his nails.He hangs himself 2 years later; after she had just found someone else.

At her secret visit to his grave, She looked at the stone and let her heart become just that.

The memories of Paris and Venice,
gallerias and shoreditch.
The theatre and ballet.
First kisses and touches.
First slaps and punches.
Her very first rapist.
The lost baby and those kicks.

She drives hereself home and has 2 bottles of vodka; in remembrance of him. The scowler.