Battery Life

Poetry

another day, another fight,

and we act just like flint

ready to go up in flames

at the first hint of friction

we’re all just made of charges

sparking against each other,

crackling with energy spent,

as we rail against each other

power plays and witless hours,

all those useless tricks we play,

as our lives trickle to dust,

inch by inch, minute to minute

but then there are the moments

when I look at you and think,

“we’re so lucky, aren’t we?”

such are the winsome hours

the truth is that we may be

each other’s greatest foe,

but we hurt because we love

with a violence of sorts

wanting to tell you everything,

being the end-all and be-all,

wishing we were better —

it’s our own way of coping

so when I speak too loud,

or cry as if by design,

know I don’t always realize

how to love you just right

Originally published at https://vocal.media.