Nothing more

Imagine if
the person you thought
you’d spend the rest of your life with
showed up holding a knife with
the intention to kill your entire life with
her, and everything you knew.

Would you
freeze and let it happen,
panic and start a racket,
or try another tactic,
something less dramatic —

Therapy with sincerity
surely with care will be
the thing necessary
to cure the thing that ails the
problems and discontentment,
the sentiment
of resentment,
that led to
the thing you knew
or was not known to you
but was to her

Fuck it.
It’s a confusing blur.

Why the hell
can’t we keep it together?
To weather the storm,
cold or warm?
Isn’t that what we promised
in front of family and friends.
To be honest?
To work things out among us?
What’s changed?
What’s this new fuss?

Personal freedom.
Selfishness.
That’s not us.
That’s you.
If you want it
you can have it.
But not with a knife,
not with this fight
but with trust.
With love.
And with us.

Can’t you do it?
Can’t we get though it?
Like at the alter?
God bless.
Please say “yes”
Please say “I do”
Please say “I’ll try to”
Please say “I want to die with you”

That’s what I signed up for.
Idealistic?
To die for.
The only thing to try for.
What else is there?

Nothing more.

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