Silver taped
blowhole
roped feet and hands
broken glass
swollen eye
purple nose
bloody thighs
shiny watch still
in place
tissue ripping
fingers gripping
my own flesh
was it
the two drink
minimum
or my short skirt
or the girl
that stood him up
either way
I’m here
its done
and
each night
a part of me cracks open
and dies
wondering why
As he
continues to
tip
the waitresses.