John D. Robinson

In Our 20’s, A Drunken Early Evening

I would guess that
she had her reasons
for her actions;
the heavy glass
ashtray thrown in
the semi-darkness
was a quality throw
and opened up a
deep gash across the
bridge of my nose;
I picked up the
nearest object,
a cauliflower,
and threw it towards
the screaming and
missed the target
miserably and I felt
the warm blood
streaming onto my lips
and down my chin
and I began laughing;
she moved and
switched on a light
and began crying and
apologising as she
looked at my face and
then behind her at the
shattered cauliflower
upon the floor and
then she knelt down
and embraced me,
kissing my bloodied
face, diluting the
red with her tears.

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