A kiss with a fist...

You hit me once,
I hit you back,
You gave a kick,
I gave slap,
You smashed a plate
Upon my head
Then I set fire
To our bed.

--Florence + the Machine, "Kiss with a Fist"

Author's Note:  This incident happened when I was studying before class last Wednesday, and it's been bothering me ever since. I feel like I should've done more. Or something different. To try to work out my feelings about this, I wrote the piece below. I don't know if I would call it a poem because I've never been especially good at writing poetry, but I couldn't say what I wanted to say in the way I wanted to say it with this piece in regular prose. I'd really like feedback from anyone who reads this, so please comment or e-mail or Facebook me (to those who know my name) with your thoughts. Thanks!

Rough Day, Rough Life

Dear Lady,

Yes, You,

The one with the

Curly hair,

Hipster glasses,

Pug nose,

Loud voice,

And broad hips

In too-tight jeans:

I'm sorry.

You had a rough day.

I came to campus

Before class

To study--

Hard--

For an exam.

You were there, too,

With your man.

I sat at a table

In the tranquil lobby

And began to read.

You sat in a chair nearby.

All was quiet

Until

He started in

On you

About buying

A gallon of milk

At that exact moment.

You protested--

Your voice sonorous--

And whiny.

I need to study--

You said--

I'm failing this class!

I only have two more

Chapters to go!

Then we can go.

This made him angry.

You started to argue.

Loudly.

The guy at the table

Next to mine

Swore and said:

Jesus! Every day!

Everyone was staring

At you.

Everyone.

We couldn't help it--

Your booming voice filled

The peaceful lobby,

And your whine

Only grew

More pronounced

With each and every

Protestation you made.

Then he put his hands on you:

One on your throat,

One under your chin,

Forcing your head back

At an uncomfortable angle.

I could feel you cringe.

I stood up

And stomped towards you,

My high-heeled boots

Pounding the floor

Aggressively

And echoing through

The vacant halls beyond.

He saw me

And my angry look

Coming, coming,

So he let you go.

But I didn't stop.

I walked right up

To you two

And began to

Clear the air.

What do you think you are doing?!

People are trying to study!

You tried to mumble

That you weren't

Bothering anyone,

But I cleaved

Your argument

Into tiny slivers

Before you could finish it.

No!

You are bothering everyone!

People in the computer lab are staring!

People in the business office are staring!

Everyone in this lobby is staring at you!

You are bothering everyone!

You knock it off or go outside!

If you don't, I will call the cops!

Your man,

In his dirty, shabby clothes,

Unkempt hair,

And nasty goatee--

He looks like a fifty-year-old

Pig Pen

From the Sunday comics

And smells just as bad, too--

He glared at me.

I glared back

In fury.

I gave him my "evil eye"

That I seldom use,

But those who have seen it

Say it's the

Meanest

Coldest

Angriest

Look they've ever seen.

I channeled Dirty Harry--

Go ahead,

Make my day,

You sonofabitch.

I can take you.--

With that look.

I was not afraid.

He walked away.

You sat back down

In your chair

And went back

To your textbook.

I went back to my seat, too.

It was quiet again.

A few minutes later,

He rejoined you,

But you were quiet,

So I left you alone.

But you were whispering

Amongst yourselves--

Thick as thieves--

And casting sideways glances

At me.

You were talking about me.

I'm not stupid,

So don't try to deny it.

I've been to high school.

What did you say about me?

That I'm

Bossy?

Bitchy?

Both?

Worse?

It doesn't matter

What you said

About me.

I've been called worse--

To my face.

And I am not the one

Who sleeps with

Evil Pig Pen

And fails my classes.

Eventually you both fell silent.

Twenty minutes after

The whispering stopped,

You left with him.

I do not know

What happened

After that,

But I hope you are well.

I bare you

No ill will.

I just know

That there is

No happy ending

To dysfunctional stories

Like your own.

Author's Note:  The above image is almost exactly what the couple in this piece was doing when I confronted them. The lady had the exact same expression on her face that the woman in the picture has. I posted this picture because it is so eerily true to life.