An empty bottle of wine
you wave the cigarette smoke and say
“You really need to get over it.”

It burns deep; rises quickly
to my throat, crammed
with desperate protest

It shouted its intention
to hurt, to wound
to get one up

Wouldn’t dare show it then
but the blood soaked
out on my wedding dress

and I’m offended
of your suggestion
to forgive and forget

Easy to stand tall
when the hurt is on
somebody else

But I know comfort
in backlash
patient, patiently

On your Day
I’ll bleed you out
for the memory –

Imagine me, tangerine
The Minx unleashed!
like a fist in the face.