bleed for us two

Your anguish
snarls and hisses
like a cat
soaked by a hose,
and all the happy endings
that we dreamed of
lie crumpled in a heap,
like a hooker's clothes;
we throw five-sided barbs
at each other,
each hoping to discover
how fast our blood flows,
and for the life of me,
I really wish, somehow,
that heaven really does know;
You rant, and You rail,
and I accept the travail
as part of this territory,
our secret little story,
born in a seeping mist,
the product of a bucket list,
a trophy bereft of glory;
I watch You climb to the apex
of disillusion,
and sit mute, as You cling
to Your illusions, and
I am petrified, and You
sit still in the rising tide,
as it all washes over You,
and I stand frozen,
clueless about what to do;
I sit here late at night,
I confess, and wonder
if the fight, more or less,
is worth fighting,
and each night, the answer
hangs around my neck,
hell, yes!
You are clinging to a wreck,
and I have a life-preserver
that I have to throw,
that You have to know,
is meant for You,
only You,
so put it around Your neck;
I stand,
and crush happenstance
with the heel of
and I let my heart flow;
I will never regret
standing firm
standing for You,
my strength is my love,
which will always
bleed for us two.

April 3, 2010, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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