Breaking the Ice

We have turned cold, withdrawn; emotions throng
In silence, air is humming, strained and tense.
The current pulls beneath the surface, strong
Resentment; bubbling, choking stubbornness.
With growing hate and tension rising, we
Are marionettes pulled by each other’s strings,
Attempting to maintain our dignity
Throughout the pettiness this conflict brings.
Now who will dip their toes into the pool
Of warmth, of words, and who will break the ice?
My strength is weakening; to end this duel
Means I must swallow pride, or pay the price.
No longer will I shut you out: this game
Is lost, and I reach out and say your name.

A Domestic Tea Party

Crockery trembles on the shelf,
Fine-boned china the light shines through,
Yet light is blocked by hands surrounding;
Strong, rough hands
Squeezing, crushing, forcing
Its fragility to weaken, break,
Crash to the floor.
Topple, one by one, off the shelf.
A cup without a saucer,
Crying, bleeding streams of coffee
In a shimmering lake creeping
Across the table, huddling
With the shards of china in the corner.
Porcelain beauty, chipped and cracked;
Too weak, too gentle, too forgiving.
Hands clench into fists,
And crockery trembles on the shelf.

Feline Fury

Night, when its shadows and hidden depths concealed
Predators, slinking with yellow eyes wide,
Passed within moonlit gardens; silence but for a rustle
As paws moved through damp grass with pride,
Stealthy, so as not to be revealed.

Stench of rotting, darkness; the scene was set
For violence, territory precious, cared
For: at pains to be protected.
Fury glinted in wild eyes, battle scars bared;
The moment arrived: two animals met.

Claws extended, flesh ripped open: raw
Wounds, red blood salty through matted hair.
A writhing ball of anger, no mercy shown;
Snarled, scuffled, with flying fur; despair
As blood pumped, coursed hot through veins sore.

Nails driven through the skulls of sleepers,
Wrenched from their dreams:
Ear-splitting, heart-thumping screeches;
Smell of fear, pain, anger; harsh screams,
Trawling terror from night like Grim Reapers.

Pure violence in its starkness,
Resulting pain, seething, whimpering.
Flick of a tail, the licking of wounds:
One had triumphed. The other, limping
Humiliated and pained, melted into darkness.

Life Support

The search for any sign;
Fluttering eyelashes,
The curl of a finger,
But you give away nothing.

Insides torn, wrenched apart
By inner turmoil, anguished
By this impossible logic;
Desperate reaching, wanting.

Like Antigone, both choices
End in tears. Which way to turn?
The answer built on loyalty,
Built on love.

Guilt; dragging weight
On the conscience,
Too heavy to flee from,
Chained to your bedside.

Too long, too many days
Have passed.
Hope, a flickering candle light,
Blows out: the choice is made.