My lungs desire reconciliation
They do not dare admit
Eyelids are sore and drenched
Closing bit by bit

My lips only part to speak
Hoarse
"I hate you so ******* much"
The air is dry and heavy
Body wants your dark touch

Three am is our witching hour
Scared of little disputes
We both morph into monsters
Into obnoxious brutes

Turns out evil seed is sprouting
I think it can't survive
Wondering if I uproot the wickedness
Will I need help to thrive?