I tell you to stop,
Then dodge your response,
You speak in fists,
A second language,
And the shape of your words.
I am afraid,
Of you,
For you.
The world is professional violence,
A heavyweight,
And you in kid gloves.
Our sparring,
Is training,
For a rigged fight.
You the fuse,
But am I the match?
My fire —
Extinguished,
But still smoldering.
I am supposed to have the answers,
To know what you need,
The teacher,
A substitute,
Who doesn’t understand the lesson.
Loving you,
Brings out the worst,
In me,
In you.
This fight,
Is within us,
Not between us.
This combustible anger,
Fuel,
Temptation,
For arsonists,
Who burn,
Who wound,
What can’t be repaired,
What won’t heal.
