To Blush Or To Bruise

Blue lines on my face
Teardrops on my dress
She said, she said
There is no one at my place 
But he wasn’t standing far
The man in violent garb
Pining compliments 
Like flowers on the barb

His brutal hands were red
From all life, playing dead
And like a rose to the cactus 
She wed, she wed
Merry was the man
Like cherry blossomed lies
The kiss was murder weapon
Aided by garter and bow ties 

And so years were spent
Part in bruises, part as prize
With smoke in the lungs
With mirror in the eyes 
While the violent man he waltzed
Alone on the floor
With a corpse in his arms
To a music playing no more