You’re embittered old foes,
versed in the rote battles of years past,
ripping scabs open at a second’s notice,
hating what you swore to always love.
Booming screams resounding in dead space-
the coffin of your marriage, you’re digging the plot.
Frenzy induced hysteria in an effort to suffocate;
choke the blood from your twined doomed hearts.
Just put a butterfly bandage on it,
kiss the hurt to postpone it.
You’ll just start up again for the love of it,
sadistic pleasure in ripping clean the bandage.
One of these days you’ll both be hoarse,
mutes in the agony of your existence;
Maybe this time you could both try listening–
but you’d be too lonely with hatred missing.
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