Breaking Point

With her fingers tapping against her crossed leg,
her mind is writing the scene of vengeance,
nostalgia lingers as niceties are cringing but intended,
another minute, another hour, another day,
living on these debilitating broken shells of a life,
crunching more and more under her feet,
the hell of breathing in his proximity, is enraging,
the prison her heart has been enslaved in, is now part of her,
always torturing the trust and love in her,
she has surrendered herself to the reality of it,
not knowing how to fathom escaping it,
she sits idle at his embrace, clinching,
praying for him to finish it,
free you from this demon that is him,
her eyes widened like hollow sockets,
still clinching, but fatigue resonates in her soul,
in her body, in her heart,
this time she says,
NO, GET OUT!.