My Dear, That's Life

Bones aching, bruised with bitterness.
They abandon facts to favour attack.
Tongues sharpened by resentment
methodically carve into each other’s back.

"I don't know if I love you anymore.", he says.

 

Fresh wounds infected with sour spit
seeping with memories of a time he cared.
The spiteful taste of words half-meant
forging cracks in hearts once shared.

"I don't even know if I like you.", she says.

 

Daggered stares twist between lovers,
both clouded in passionate hate.
Heads pounding with bygone thoughts
and fears; maybe it's too late.

"Do you even like yourself?", he asks.

 

Bitterness fades into numbing pain,
both falling quiet with introspection.
'Is it me, really causing all this?',
they long for a sense of direction.

 

"I'm a shadow of who I once was.", she admits,
"i'm not living the life I foresaw.".
"Me too, my dear, that's life!" he exclaims,
"no point living for what came before."

 

Life's demands shock them back to ignition,
time for work, with no more delay.
Defeat lingering behind tired eyes,
she finds the only words left to say:

"Have a good day."

…

"You too."