Trust between us was trivially broken,
followed by words: ill-heard and ill-spoken,
many statements made out of raging anger,
the affected love affair by a threaded cliffhanger,
so many plans drawn up by our hands,
buried now by the line drawn in the sand,
we ignore eachother’s calls and texts,
tattoo over the initials inked into my chest,
throw out your magazines and auto repair manuals,
fill up with your stuff until the garbage can’s full,
return all of your mail; “addressee does not live here!”,
stomp the peppers that you planted last year,
spend nights alone in silence with the TV turned off,
smoke so much weed that I get emotionally soft,
finally, one of us decides to swallow down the pride,
to send the drunken voicemail that proposes compromise,
and, it’s either go or stop –
either explode or build back up,
we both decide
to put put aside –
whatever we had disagreed about,
I gradually –
in secrecy –
replace your things that I threw out,
eventually your mail resumes delivery like before to my address,
tattooed your name block-lettered black and red in Old English,
put an baby Maple where I killed your exotic pepper seeds,
freshly stacked the reading rack with automotive magazines,
until good Gods Damned, that trust breaks down once again,
headed straight for the parlor chair to ink over your name,
a can of gasoline to douse that stupid “Mini Japanese”,
Ornamental saplings burned to ashen smithereens,
the cycle spins as such, repeated redundancy,
it’s a lick for a kiss, a purr or a hiss,
between the combustible mix made of you and me.