A big mess to clean up

The sweet and salty tears
that run down my face.

Tasty, and not, when they
come across my lips.

The pain in my throat,
from all the yelling.

Holes in the walls,
from all the missed punches.

My blood, I think,
over my hands and clothes.

And your blood, I think,
all over your long hair.

A big mess to clean up,
before anyone comes by.

At least, you lost all that
weight before now.

You won't be so hard to move
out the door anymore.

At least, maybe even luckily,
I didn't break the shovel.

Now, if only I could just
find all your parts.