You think you have me figured out already,
don't you, Carol Lynn?
Well, I hope not, because it would mean the chances are good,
That you actually have.  This would be sad because it means,
there may be no intrigue remaining,
nothing new to discover,
and you might go away,
bored with me and the evil,
you must, inevitably find,
buried in my side like a stone.

There may come a day when you finally see,
Where this tension, releasing, comes from.
You said I was wound, unbound, like a spring.
The watch of my appeal always did have a short run.

So, a relationship moves toward it's end, right from the start.
Interest can wane, obscenities uncovered, doubt can enter,
and set up shop like it always does.  

What we should hope for instead is a slow burning ember,
nurtured each breath with whispers, with mindfulness,
and contentedly, casually, delay it's demise for just one more day.