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Crime of the Heart

A collaboration: Poem by Annette Nasser and Art by Carl Scharwath He spoke just one sentence and she,
without crying, consumed by passion,
yet mostly love, through thought processes
of a hungry mind surrounded by grey matter
his eyebrows justified what was never read
until now.

His voice interrupted her wandering,
trying to speak
and with masculine arrogance
he shut her down
with a dominance
not longed for.

There is a sudden and serious solemnity
under dark red and bruised toned
sunset, often resembling
spot flashes of an abusive shadow.

The reality is this:

Every time she witnesses
expressions of bullied spontaneity
with uneasy astonishment,
every time she felt tears
outline the illusion of his silence
every time she glanced to see
hypnotic effects of odious,
sordid eyes
not aware of the clothes
adorning her body and only
the hidden intricacies of her torn skin
Every time exerting unsavory
every time holding precisely
pointing the handle
within his mind,
and think or act violently
upon her domain
her lips frozen in time
unable to embrace her own mind,
because he thinks
he owns her

wondering if he ever really thought
effect of consequences

the next time he thinks
will be his last time
because she never really was

and never will be his wish

because in her mind
and yes, she has thoughts, too

He doesn't exist.

© Annette Nasser

Crime of the Heart
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