Learnmore Edwin Zvada writes

Dispirited Soul 

You come down on me
With an incessant inrush of fists that disables my jaw
The lips you used to kiss, darling, you have bruised
The body you used to caress is defaced and mottled
Now you cannot even look at me without grimacing
Like you have tasted rotten barf in a coffee cup 

I cannot afford the luxury of weeping
Not with our little Angel sitting on my lap
I cannot let her see my pain and grief
I am her strength when she is weak
I am her ululation when she has aced her grades
I am a mother, the strongest she knows
No, I can’t succumb to tears 

If only you knew, darling
How your fist dismantles my pride as a woman
How useless I feel when you call me names
Retard, whore, uncultivated village girl
I take it all, silently, like a sheep before the shearers 

Love…what a paradoxical phenomenon
On which I hung my vow to you
Remember till death do us part? 
Such a shame
Equally shameful as you playing the sweet lover
So you brought me a birdie and a crocodile tear
You must be genuinely sorry, right?
I am just an ungrateful tramp, right?
Perhaps I have abused my office as your woman
Forgive my social deportment, good old husband  

Even though you smell like a gluttonous pig
I will wrap myself around you with a smile and a kiss 
Your left eye squints like that of a thieving pedophile 
But before such disturbing a gaze, I will strip my soul and body
So that I remain your phenomenal woman
Perhaps you might wake up before your piercing words slice me to pieces
Before they bury my remains six feet under the heath 
Perhaps love will grace our porch one more time