Bread and Oranges

This describes the middle of our twisted and confusing relationship.

The place I hated, though she was there

I never could understand

She shoved her things up in my face

And expected me to lend a hand.

A crushed piece of bread

An open container of orange blood

And these all meant more,

An idiocy, a problem, things presented to me.

A deeper meaning I could never follow

Yet she cried for it in the night,

Reliability in its strength.

And we left the place with a kiss

Of which she so desired

And I thought more of the timing

Things unseen, thinking on the possibility

That maybe we could be

Forever in each other’s arms

Despite the one who stood

At the far end of the hall.