The Fight

Tears come unchecked in a stress ridden haze

yet outbursts fall musical flat on page,

currents between us, emotion, my dear

run a tempting rhythm when you are near.


Comfort it seems comes in hollow torrents

like a pumpkin’s shell, the inside is rent,

and your argument for logic is sound

but the emotional ground isn’t found.


These couplets are rhyming but don’t make sense

our actual wording leaves us bereft

of tangible strings woven through my soul

before I’m left shouting words like a fool.

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