She wore her bruises
like rings on a boxer’s hand—
earned, not explained.
Lips like lit matches.
Men burned just to get near her.
None ever stayed lit.
She kissed like revenge,
the kind that cracks your knuckles
and still leaves you cold.
He said she was wild.
She said, No, you.
He didn’t ask twice.
She let him undress
her like a pulled trigger—fast,
thoughtless, and deadly.
Her laugh broke glasses.
Her silence shattered mirrors.
Both cut when they fell.
She loved like whiskey—
sweet at first, then just a burn
you beg to forget.
Heather Kays is a St. Louis-based poet and author passionate about writing since age 7. Her memoir, Pieces of Us, dissects her mother’s struggles with alcoholism and addiction. Her YA novel, Lila’s Letters, focuses on healing through unsent letters. She runs The Alchemists, an online writing group, and enjoys discussing creativity and complex narratives.
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