Bemused at your fingertips (part 1)

The man abuses his wife as the scene unfolds
His stinging words speaking of hands that will too….later
When the onlookers have dispersed.
He pulls on a fake grin, like an old holey jumper
His grinding teeth give his irritation away
She tried to look like she knew what was going on
So the iron fist clothed for now in velvet struck
Her face flames as she is reprimanded
Like an unsuspecting child who sees only the obvious
He’ll point it out painfully later as always
Bemused at your fingertips
As you tell her it’s for her own good
Convinced that she did it all wrong AGAIN
She berates herself with a few choice words
And explaining the bruises as another door
Or window, or floor
Nobody asks her,  nor gives a care
She’ll never say anything, just as before
Till the day she decides to jump ship for shore.
A long sail it’s been and soon it will end
Too late for his sorry tongue to amend.

Ailsa

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