As our children sit and listen by our bedroom doors
we so called grown people
grow into what will become of them
deciding the future by the light of the moon
evening screams punctuated by dissident midnight silences
and screeched allegations of infidelities
based on the second hand accounts
of imaginative and envious witnesses
we begin to consider each other guilty until proven innocent
yet
we remain obstinate in our suspicions
no proof is sufficient
belief trumps reason
we grow intolerant and hard of hearing
arguments growing louder and louder
love notes gone sour
dark blue duo singing dissonant two part harmony
at the top of our lungs
Clashing
sarcastic
acerbic and frantic
slashing and cutting each other down to the bone marrow
as our un-manicured egos
come to overshadow our solemn oaths
we grow
and passions afterglow is exhausted
fractured and collapsed
surrendering before the panting aftermath
of the most up-to-date mêlée with our better halves
we stand before each other naked
perspiring
crying and bleeding and
growing
shocked into an unnatural catatonic posture
rocked to the core by the harshness of our newly acquired perspectives
we grow out of our imaginations
and talk our of our heads
snatching off our rose tinted sunglasses
lenses cracked and shattered
we stand there
abandoned and bitter yet
hopelessly hopeful
tears of Crimson descending
sprinting rivers running into reservoirs
congealing and festering
sweltering
gradually growing greener
it’s funny
how unsophisticated we get
in the midst of complicating the simplistic
we use the same mouths to take vows
as the ones we use to shout each other down
and run each other through the mud
and maybe somewhere deep down inside of each of us
we believe that we can find our own salvation
by sacrificing each other
so we cut deeper
attempting to bleach our grief in one another’s blood
we become
ghastly gardeners fumbling with envious thumbs
spitting venom
irrigating rows of white rose remnants
we spit fire ‘til we set the petals ablaze
leaving smoldering ashes scattered amongst
thorn laurelled stems casting exaggerated shadows in the autumn sun
standing singed
solemn and grave
we sleep restlessly in beds we’ve neglectfully made
and we grow
traipsing through the rows of our garden
reaping pernicious epithets indelibly etched in the depths of our souls
we grow out of our unconditional delusions
I love you, but
I love you, if
I love you stitches ripped open with razor tipped slips of the tongue
we grow
outlook growing bleaker
We grow distant
Jaded eyes retreating into fields of iridescent blackberries
And a thousand pixilated games and applications
meant to save us from facing each other
Crying out in desperation
Praying for an electrified consolation
We throw each other away and embrace
the creeping vine wires rising from quicksand
In our relentless pursuit of escape
We get caught up and drawn down into a solipsistic abyss
becoming ingrown people
too busy to love
contented memories fleeting
becoming forgetful
unable or unwilling
to remember what we used to see in each other
unable or unwilling
to remember what we use to be to each other
we grow unhappy to see one another
we grow bitter
we grow bitter
we grow apart
Your priorities begin to travel abroad
growing more and more sophisticated
more sophisticated than I ever could hope to be
and I respond in kind
lashing out in a prideful attempt to make things even between us
even if it ends up rendering our evenings odd and distant
we holler till we hollow out the hallowed home we used to have
alone we grow
cold
becoming weary of the underestimated struggle
heavy is the hand that wears the wedding band I guess
too heavy
so reluctant yet recalcitrant
in tandem we press the big red button
unified in suicide only
we witness the vicious fission of the nuclear black family unit
sitting back and watching the bombastic blast
as if it’s an out of body experience
while our baby
sits there crying silently outside the bedroom door
tip toeing back into his room
slipping back under the covers and
drifting into his first dreamless sleep
he grows
we grow
into statistics
becoming more
and more
ordinary