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I met a woman
from whose eyes flew rivers of salty waters,
who masked her face with smiles.
I heard her tell her friends
how sweet her husband was
and how blessed she was to have him.

But in eyes I saw burning flames of hurt mixed with pains,
and her mouth were stories untold.
She talked about her morning romance
with laughter escaping her mouth,
who knew she meant “morning bully”
For she is now a punching bag.

Her friends were amazed
wishing they could swipe with her,
but right inside her were pangs, regret and distress.
In her body were marks designed with red and green colours,
marks of her salvation.
She looked into the sun cursing the day she walked to the altar to make a life and death vow.

under the sheets

She swore never to speak out
and be laughed by all.
And the next day her corpse spoke
louder than her voice.
She took the pain till death parted them.

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