Before I had realized what I was doing

I had instinctively opened the front door

In response to the ringing bell

Like

Sometimes I hear them.

The people next door don't talk;

They snarl

Yapping and panting,

Whining and growling;

A harsh

The door's finally closed
Its silence is so peaceful
Hoping there will be no more abuse

The beatings are torturous
The wounds

Silent Witness (Domestic Violence)

It is the movement, the fire
Kinetic life to which I raise my glass
Dedicating the lighting

Battered Again

Dark rain fall on me
savage cries spell frustration
loss tangible and thick
like spoiled cream

Spilled tears