Her eyes performed surgery on my heart.
With pinpoint accuracy they carefully
Carved and sculpted a wound that was
Aesthetic and agonising.

Had she been a plastic surgeon,
She could make quite a profitable living;
But her speciality is anomalous to the healing profession.
Why does this brand of medicine seem so ubiquitous?

As I waited, she was getting ready to inflict the brutal blow
With a oversized sledgehammer wrapped with
The prettiest pink tissue paper, tied with a satin ribbon,
And sprinkled with 'eau de toilet' - all the way from Paris.

"Sorry darling, that's the way it is" she whispered.
She walked away, and while passing the mirror,
Looked at herself, applied an extra layer of ruby lipstick.
Turned back, pouted her lips "you'll be okay".

One by one, she reopening my stitches with her eyes,
And left me to bleed slowly and painfully in the Lounge.