When the Favor is Never Returned

Not sure how close I followed the topic of this one, but it kind of creates panic, right?

****

The moon starts to rise
in the dead air, but as nighttime falls
there are no signs of stars.
My red heel breaks
in the crack of the cobblestone. A
brief second of grief, and then
I walk further like an old
beggar woman with twisted feet.

I can hear the hound dogs
barking in the distance, but no one
else seems to notice- or care. The moon

sits high in the throne
as a shudder escapes my
champagne lips. His black eyes
cut me like a saw,

but as gently as a caress. The
slow steps echo off the old café
wall. He nears me. His breaths
roll out like clouds- his voice
like a foreign snap of thunder.

The wind covers my eyes as
a hand is placed upon my
cheek. Icicles stab my veins.
Everything about this man is cold.

He whispers the threat, and I feel
my knees crack. I grab the hem
of his shirt, already soaked in blood.
I murmur a prayer, but all I see in

return is stars. His hand wraps
around my hair, and then it’s gone.
He’s gone. I could never stand it.
One day he said.

One day was three nights ago.
One day was sunny.
One night was all of our demises.
I knew it was the end.
I could play the
protagonist everyday, but
in the end- I was not
the main character.

I was but a mixed up
language set in the space
between the carefully constructed lines.

Do not despair for there is always
hope,
but how can I not
despair when the only
source of hope is a
brutal,
bloodcurdling,
bone breaking
death?

My gasoline lips soaked in
blood, I stand. Out of the
corner creeps an evil-
darting between shadows.
I limp across the cobblestone,
head low and eyes squinted.

Up ahead, under the eerie
street lamp stands him
with a cigarette in his hand,
and a demonic smile
beaming from his fiery face.

This is incredible. I just love the way you write with such passion. Every verse completely contradicted what I thought was going to happen. It was awesome.

One day was three nights ago.
One day was sunny.
One night was all of our demises.
I knew it was the end.
I could play the
protagonist everyday, but
in the end- I was not
the main character.
That verse has my heart forever.

I loved your interpretation of the topic - instead of describing exact panic, this is a situation that would cause panic, which I think is all the more effective, because the reader can find their own tone in the poem. If that makes any sense...

I just loved your first stanza so much, the imagery of red heels cracking in the cobblestones had me.

Oh my...

I do think that this deserves some kind of recognition..

It's VERY good..

My gasoline lips soaked in
blood, I stand.

I love you for that. That was absolutely astounding.

Thank you everyone.