She Knows

As sure as she stands 
Having stopped running 
And with a shortness of breath
Her wallowing ends here

A lesser woman 
Would be smiling by now
At the thug long gone
In the rear view mirror 

He’ll not admit 
She is as good as gold 
Like the flecks in her true green eyes
He tastes her pureness still 

Instead Of Dying

Walk this heat-weary mile
Throat parched
Painful shoes
Nearly no breath left
Don’t blame the mistake
The map you made
When your eyes were younger

Tip your hat to the hurt
Toss your map to the sky
And take aim
Let those smithereens shade you
Praise the what-lies-ahead
Without thinking twice
Walk forth