She sat on the kitchen floor with her back to the counter, panting.

The flour was dancing around her like snowflakes. Her blood and cake batter was staining the cold tiles but she had no energy to get up.

The business end of her wooden spoon was stuck in her husband’s right ear, and she knew when she pulled it out the mess would only grow.

But she needed to finish her cake before the police came to take her away.

Then again, she thought, once they tasted some of her cake, they may just have a slice and leave.… Read the rest

The frequency
with which you hurt me
surprises me still. 

I really put up
with all that
for so long? 

I have a
dilemma of self,
because now,
who am I
without you?

I’m the girl
that keeps going,
nose to grindstone,
making the grade,
getting her heart broken
every single day.

Today’s poetry prompt words were: frequency, dilemma, and making the grade.

_{Photo by Deepak Gupta on Unsplash}