Ungrateful by Angela Peach

Ungrateful

by Angela Peach

I hear the slickness In her voice

and I cringe on the inside,

as her perfectly red

blood-red

fresh kill

nails

run through her long, brown hair

(chestnut really

with these golden glimmers),

and she sighs, out loud

as If she's got somewhere else

she 'd rather be

than there

with him.

And he laps It up like sugar water

Champagne

so eager, puppy eager to please,

to make her want him.

I want him, and I want to scream.