A simple question,
answered everyday, multiple occasions.
It’s a much more difficult one
being slapped
by a face like this.
"Love tapped," as she calls it.
Our words rhyme,
but hers holds more truth.
I feel dizzy.
She waits.
My heart is nauseous.
Without warning,
it vomits all over her beautiful red dress.
It looked new before...
I don’t remember the look on her face,
just the blood splattered on the saint she was wearing.
“Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Here, I can...”
“No! Go away.”
I don’t allow the situation to breath.
“I… I’m sorry.”
She vanishes from my fixed focus.
Another lovely magician,
if only, I could conceal my tricks like that.
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