Just like chemical bonding,
they never got balanced.
Every morning comes with mournings,
the four walls of the room is another covered ring for him to display his punches on her face.

Hits and kicks leave remarkable scars on her face.
Her face was a cemetery - where
wounds laid like graves.
wounds that scarred her heart forevermore.

if tears could make an ocean,
her tears would have been larger than Pacific Ocean.

she accepted him as a religion she
had to worship.
night fell like a curtain, yes, everywhere was dark.
he performed his normal rite
kicks that came quickly made her
to press the painful exit door.
yes - she died.

He hated himself for his combat,
he paid his debt - the last respect.