lobbing handgrenades.

i am not sure when
it became the default response
to strike for first blood
first victory
in every conversation

(... argument? though let's face it, it's you who does the talking and me who takes the punishment, so it can't really be called an argument - or a conversation for that matter. two to tango is a thing, after all, and i've never felt the right to respond)

but my flesh feels pockmarked
by all the inward explosions
caused each time you feel the need
to win...

why isn't my love just ever enough for you?

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this happens much too often in relationships...
not a balance, even relationship but one in which one party always has to be the dominant, the victor...

self=satisfaction...ego...and that does leave the flesh inside pockmarked...

this is such a strong metaphor...

this deserves lots of looks and comments...it is really creative...handgrenades and the shrapnel that lingers afterward...hard to get over it.
j.

[jenniewren (J.W. Bouwman)]

Thank you so much j! I appreciate that you still read my work, even when I post here so very seldomly.. your words mean a lot