It has been a test of wills. A long time tug-o-war…oh, war. Parries and counters, stops and starts, sputters and grand implosions.
We don’t work, beautifully.
I blame, you blame. You grow distant, I wall up. I look past every fatal flaw, you ignore each red flag. We run and chase, always at the exact wrong moment.
It’s an infatuation and a passing fancy, an apathetic obsession. Bitter attraction and angry lust.
I’m done, I’ve had enough! Too late, you’re done first!
Gone, quiet. Cold.
Yet each sputter or implosion, we forget, or we miss…those fatal flaws and red flags.
And we don’t work out, again…beautifully.