Her painted nails were bloody claws.
His fists were wide open or clutched.
The scratches and punches.

They were too close as dressed
and as glued
in the naked bed
he loads his gun
and fire in her hole.

After the sexy intercourse
she plays dead.

He rests his dreamy head
between her milky breasts.

No scratched skin or saturated bruises,
just intermission for twirling thoughts.

Rock-paper-scissors.