LOVE

The clash of teeth, the smack of a hand. It will never be the same again. She raises the banner, and he looks away. It is the nature of the beast that has a hold. She sneers, he buckles. There is a swish in the air, there is a bending of knees. No prayers, no song. No exaltation, no forgiveness. Like the fruit on the tree, it is black and dripping with decay. So she laughs nervously at his pain, laughs nervously at the hand print on his cheek, smiles in lengthy triumph at the tear as he looks away in sultry silence.