He lies compulsively
He laughs during the day,
Goes home to find himself dating the cold computer.
His king bed full of sweat,
His sweaters, unwashed, unclean.
Sink full of dishes.
Who will pour the dish detergent for him when he turns around?
His mouth opens, but no dark chocolate put in by that soft little hand.
I hate you for dominating my mind.
She is broken
She ruminates obsessively
She flaunts for all to see,
Walks home to see herself dancing to a lonely shadow.
Her place lacking of light,
Her umbrella, new, dry.
Who will greet her with a warm towel when she steps out?
Her lips part, but no traces of beer to fill her with that warm moist tongue.
I love you for killing me softly.
She writes, he writes
He sang, she sings
He plays the guitar, she plays the flute
She draws, he drew
She dances for no one
He works for himself
The rain pours on.