by Izzy Sanchez

The water splashes on my face

mascara running, stripes

of black on my cheeks, stains

of red on my hands 

rinsed away.

words ring in my ears

over and

over and over and

over and

I laugh.

The body was found

by the river and

I sob. 

brown dirt and earth are finally 

washed off and i hear words again.

the lacerations on the

Body are 

similar to those of tiger claws and I pause.

Is that true?

this seems to be a crime of

passion. and I scoff.

Passion? 

there was no passion in the way 

he looked at me

no passion in the way he roared 

I’ll kill you

no passion in the way he 

held the hand rake with 

shaky hands

no passion in the way he laughed with each new tear he made

in my skin

slowly, 

painfully slow.

I look in the river

my reflection rippling

tinted with my blood and dirt. i refuse to 

look at my body.

I don’t want to see

the marks 

He made.

I won’t give him the satisfaction.

and I walked away.

 

The Body is gone!

it’s almost as if she up and

walked away.