Between Us
As my mind dips beneath beverage, towards that core of passion,
I'm ever mindful of your sting within.
"There are enemies." It's all you ever give.
Will give.
Can give.
You are the straight. The unerring.
The true!
Yet, man is not.
Is my death outside the window?
Within the walls?
Within the mind?
Perhaps, yet, what of it?
What has this constant self-persecution of ours won?
Every evening, I fall short.
Every morning, you reproach.
Every afternoon, we fail.
Together.
May there never be an end to this violence between us!
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