In the blur of the East Coast early morning,
Not even bothering to put on my glasses
I have to get out these words
In a world of a trillion chances
This union would never endure
In a universe of infinite forgiveness
This love would shrivel up and die

As you sit across the couch
Frost chips on your shoulder
Quieter than  the north woods at dawn
The usually calming silence stabs at me
As if you are doing it on purpose
Oh wait,
You are.

Turned a cheek
But not in forgiveness
Just to maim a bit

Now I flounder in my temporary non-existence
Searching for the proper  weapon to shatter the chaotic, scarring silence,

This is a quiet war