“We should talk more”

We greet. We mingle.

We’re glad we’re not single.

We banter. We discuss.

One of us starts to fuss.

I make a joke. You take offense.

You correct me. I take offense.

You try to explain. I read it wrong.

I try to explain. You read it wrong.

I get angry. You have no clue.

You keep explaining. I ignore you.

I fume and quench. You misunderstand.

You give me a “fact”. I clench my hand.

I give you “experience”. You refute it.

You give me “perspective”. My anger dilutes it.

I think of our problems, and how long they’ll last.

I think of the trials, both future and past.

I say, “I need time.” You beg me to stay.

I say that I’m done, and put my phone away.

I think, and I fester.

The dark ones, they jester.

I debate them and loose three.

They bite and they bruise me.

I look for an exit.

All I see are tempests.

I spiral, spiral, spiral down.

I call out to God, “Will you help me now?”

I beg. I plead, hear nothing, secede.

I see no hope. I crave. I need.

I give in a little, and they take a lot.

I lie on my bed, head turning rot.

I shiver and break, the thoughts have won.

I beg to the Lord asking, “What can be done?”

I writhe. I wrack.

If I ran, they’d attack.

I sigh. I cry, and yell them away.

One steps back a moment whispering, “One more day…”

I take the deal and sweat

Wondering if you texted back yet.

1 new message received. Click.

*1 cute, cuddly cat pic*

“Does she even get it?” I think, “Am I piteous?

Is this her trying, or is she oblivious?

“Do I even want this?” I think with a hesitancy.

“There were good times, sure, but put simply, she triggers me.”

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