In our boxing ring I stand,

Anger rising, boiling, burning.

We take our places, centre stage.

We begin.

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,

And ….