Our words are vague and settled,
a thief of sorts has taken my purpose.
Emphasis, surely, revisits my thoughts
as consequence mounts against me.
Rather than pursue life, we have
channeled our aggression through fault,
insinuating the collapse of
promising, genuine provocation.
Exhausted for arguing the day away,
our intentions to recreate dignity
in the face of such sure failure
have indeed all but failed at this point.
Illustrate to me, woman, the
degree of your love, your kindness?
I have been stripped of my words,
and so I have asked for yours,
requested they be given in the name
of a marriage and our two sons.
Your silence, however, mimics
the devastation taken place today,
the fallout to come tomorrow,
and the eternity for which our
purpose will be made to wander.