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The Vow
Is it alright?
Is it okay?
Will I ever
Be the same?
The animal inside
Comes creeping out,
Infecting my thoughts,
Poisoning my words.
You don't love me,
You never have,
You never will.
The words taste sour on my tongue,
Are served with a chill of sarcasm,
And a hint of bitterness.
She absorbs them, taking in the flavors,
Her own demons rising,
To solicit a response.
How could you say that?!
You must never have loved me!
But she is stronger than I,
And she holds them back,
And instead the response
Is worse than that.
You're right.
No fighting, no arguing.
Just stone cold words,
Words that are normally
Warm and gratifying,
Twisted and perverted,
Instead something sour
And tasteless.
She walks off, shirt flailing.
I stand bewildered, shocked at her,
And run up the staircase to apologize.
But I would never speak another word to her.
As I reached the top of the staircase,
There was a silence,
Then a scream.
Then silence.
Silence followed by dangling and swaying,
And the crimson running down, as nature intended,
As I donated my blood to our marriage,
Our bond,
Our vow:
Till death do us part.
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