As a Sign of Affection

Things looking too clear
She held her face against the mirror.
Forehead banging, breaking.
Her hands shaking.
Tomorrow it all repeats;
A steady diet of defeats
Compelled her to think,
"There's one last drink..."
Coffee mug full of bleach
Within arm's reach.
 
Looking precision beaten
Feeling chewed and uneaten;
Bruises paint a picture
Of her lover's stricture --
Corrections to cease
Disappointment on the increase.

She regards the mug
And considers one chug.
How bad could it taste?
Would it be such a waste?
The baby screams
To escape bad dreams,
But her mind barely wanders.
Instead she ponders
Giving the child a sip.
It won't need much for the trip.
 
Gears grind against rust.
Her eyes lose their crust.
A dim bulb lights a notion:
If it isn't fair to kill the child
How is it fair she's reviled?
One sense of what's best
Triggers an acid test.
A feeling she's second guessed
Beats in her chest,
"I don't deserve this."
Pissed.
She doesn't turn the hate on herself.
Fear goes on the shelf,
And she takes the mug to brew
A sweet adieu.

Sugar, cranberry, vodka and lime.
Not enough to kill this time...
She'll provide correction
As a sign of affection.