Coming up roses

I’m uncertain
In doubt
Never thought this day would come about.

You land a punch
I heave, throw up empty
Stand back up, trying to land on my feet.
You smell of roses.
Wilted, dry,
about to die.

I paint myself blue
because you wanted me to.
The paint finishes, halfway through.
I stand, hunched,
trying to hold myself together.

You push me back.
My eyes dare you, still
Knowing it’s a battle uphill
Maybe I’m tired,
maybe I want out.

The bed’s a boxing arena
You drag me back in
Over the cheers of an invisible crowd
egging you on to win.

Except there are no gloves
there is no ‘fight’
Just you, your fists,
and the quiet after my cries.

Title: Keira Knightley. Coming up roses.

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