Just Desserts Poem by ronald stroman

she killed 'im...

and used a gun

to do it,

like he killed her


even though-


it was some of her 'spirit, ' that died.


it “smelled” like murder to the Cops:

but most knew... it was justice,

she had too many fresh scars

& old bruises,

on her mind & heart,

besides the 911 calls;

that sent her to the hospital,

for it not to be.


if it was ”love”

he kicked her awful hard,

for too long

and so wrong,

with it,

which “slapped the romance:

right out of the relationship,

'cause he forgot what love meant

and what it really was...

to looove someone

and be loooved back;

without “punches, ” to the face.


love he felt,

ought to be scented in rage.


she had to kill 'im,

in his sleep,

and everybody knew... it was merited;

'cause she got tired

of being kicked on,

like a sleeping dog;

when she was awake

knowing... the only thing getting kicked:

should be a 'habit.'


she killed 'im real good

when her love for 'self, '

knew he wasn't gonna stop,


the Jury knew it too:


when... they let her go home