Combat(ing)

Simple words that cut me down the middle.
Do you know the shock-waves?
They effortlessly drip off your tongue.
I look away.
You go primeval, you lash and rage like a savage.
The maddening reasons of the realistic and selfish.
These scars that I show, the ones that never healed, they bleed again.
Oozing out blood and hurt like long forgotten wars.
Not ready for this skirmish, your monologues of conflict.
Declamations shake me to my soul and make me shiver out a recourse.
This moment smashes into my future, obliterating my plans.
You dance the tribal dance of difference, circling the fire and the thoughts in my mind.
I walk away from the flames and carnal look in your eyes, with tears in my own that decorate my skin.
The sound of drums fade, but never disappear completely.

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