His Silent Red Rage

It is amazing
how cruel a man can be,
in his silent red rage.

To rip my heart out
with such ease,
slowly and
excruciatingly
sensuous.

He is a thief of the heart.
A momentary pleasure
to be tossed aside
when sated.

I had thought
there could only be
one.
I was wrong
in my thinking.

He exists in many
a man’s heart
and mind,
this silent red rage.

What makes him
so bitter?
That even I,
with my best
heartfelt intentions,
can be victim
to his compassionate
lust filled anger?

Yet,
each time,
I fall again
into his shallow pool.
And drown
in tears shed.

Simple woman
that I am.
I reach for
salvation.
Grasping sepulchral
madness.

It draws me in.
Crashing into
self-mutilating
despair.

I hope for
the nightmare
to end,
along with
my mortality and
his silent red rage.