same

The same, the same, the same

again.

Washing machine makes the floor shake,

kitchen surface trembles plates fall; break.

Pull the brake, make the same mistake,

as you made before; silence nestles into rages shadow,

I should go

and apologise, realise that what I did was wrong,

what did I do? Which one is this song?

Turn it up.

Turn it up.

Don’t turn up with blank expression,

regression to the same, repression

of anything like feeling,

still reeling

from the tone;

as though that alone

was the cause of the issue,

raised voice, no tissue

for your tears,

it’s like fears were reality,

when in truth they never will be,

when in truth they never could be,

unless thinking makes it true?

Is that you,

or me that hides behind the latest copy of the times;

not the newspaper but the ones we live in, crimes

of a thousand people aren’t this dramatic.

I stand static

and wait for your reprisal,

Against what? My very survival?

I said already that I didn’t mean it;

‘Didn’t mean what?’ I fit

to your expression

and change mine to mean a lesson

learnt. Apologies.

See straight through it and then seize

the opportunity.

Take one step back, but you knew it. Me,

I had no clue and stepped too close,

the rock slips. You enclose

my being, hold me in,

I begin,

crying makes your t-shirt wet,

together we step back, and set

our weapons down. Nobody has

an explanation, nobody has

a reason for this.

Nobody know the meaning of this.

We are both tired and our eyes are red,

I looked at you, you looked at me and said,

‘I love you’

and knowing it’s the only true thing, I said it too.