In our boxing ring I stand,
Anger rising, boiling, burning.
We take our places, centre stage.
My first word slams into his gut,
He bends over, graced with pain.
He stares at me, guilt-ridden eyes.
I watch as he swallows,
My mouth runs dry.
His move, his turn,
A thump to my arm and a heart-shaped bruise,
From where I wore it on my sleeve.
I clench my fists and grind my teeth,
I hit his face
This time there's blood.
My words like bullets slice the air,
Embedding in his smile,
And tainting his face.
He waits as I return the swing,
I slam the door and the wood splinters,
A simple gesture ensuring my win.
I shout again, this time he falls,
One, two, three, four,