Frantic Lurch Odor

The impact makes her lurch
Staggering, swaying, trying to recover balance
She hides the cut in this brutal dance

With a thrust she hits back
Proudly, pathetically, showing she is not broken
But the words still burn that were spoken

The frantic need consumes
Pushing, pulling, screaming to have the wound bound up tight
Needing a reason to make it all right

Then he seems to sense her need
Sadly, sincerely, he lays down his apology
If she leaves it there she might be free

The odor of defeat fills the air
Ruthlessly, recklessly, she wants nothing more than to mend
And she knows that he has won again