She places her feet down
with stubborn steps,
Cut, angled fringe, red eyes, ice lips.
Fingers curled, uncaring, in the waistband
on her hips.
I place my feet down
with weighted steps,
creased, fluffy jumper, wet hair, dry lips.
Fire up as I catch sight of her with a match
to my manuscript.
take a step back.
Don’t give me that.
This is my war and I’ll wage it as I please.
Even if I’m the one
bringing me to my knees.