Between full moons
And new moons he lived
Half crazy, or so he said,
Putting that down as his
Excuse for his raving moods
Of pinch and punch whatever
Time of the month, but you

Thought it best to wait and see
If it would all go away or if he’d
Grow out of it like an old sweater
Or maybe have some religious
Conversion and be a better person,
But he never did, and the cruising
For a bruising, as he said to you,

Continued, the moods changing,
Darkening, the rows, the words,
The up you signs, the pulling down
Of blinds before the beatings began,
(That sort of man), the neighbours
Saying, yes, he’s a good steady type,
Wouldn’t hurt a fly, smiles and says
Hello, how do you do, and goodbye.

Between summer sun to winter death,
You waited, bided your time, watched,
Felt, ached, then one winter morning,
Out of the blue, he stopped hitting you,
You hit him instead and now he’s silent,
Good to be around, because he’s dead.

That which does not **** you
makes you only stronger-
feels like
I do not belong to those
who believe in strong words

for if it hurts so much
if it leaves
but an emptiness
a huge amount of
feeling the distance-

and if I had
almost been killed
if I am hovering in between strong words to cling to
and a stone cold path into the nothingness-

how does that make me stronger?

Has it all been a lie? The whole thing just a big charade of struggle against lack of common interest? Could one even consider the possibility of opposites attract for them? This happens all the time. You think you know, but really it's everything you think it's not. What do you do when everything you thought was right, is actually wrong? What do you do when you believe in something so strongly, so strongly that you don't even need to ask about it, and it turns out was corrupted and untrue? What does that mean for promises like "As long as we both shall live" if half the marriages end in divorce anyways?*


There is no point.