“til death do us part is for quitters”
Words are thrown like knives
— flying, cutting, slicing,
making each other bleed.
Together we dance
in grotesque swift movements.
What is this about?
Who started this?
It is the same thing every time:
Do you love me?
I love you.
If I didn’t, this wouldn’t hurt;
this conversation wouldn’t even exist.
The storm has passed,
and we are left in limbo.
This dance of ours ended
yet why do I still hear the music
ringing in my ears?
Words are sticks.
Insults are stones;
the bruises are real.
Did things resolve,
or are we just on pause?
Both holding our breath,
like a predator before the chase,
we wade back into the flames
— like a fireman I search for an extinguisher
…our home is burning
all of our memories become ashes.
I am desperate for water,
searching for any solution,
an end to all this pain.
Realizing our state,
we cling to one another
as tears put out the fires,
holding each other.
We knew what we were doing
when we said “I do.”
