tears make paper wrinkle and cause major traffic accidents

the woman on the couch is my wife
not my enemy
but the battle lines are so accurately drawn
the trenches so precisely dug
so deeply into the fabric of our daily lives
the woman with the soft brown hair
is the love of my life
but strangely wishes me dead
i could cross these barren barbed-wire moments
i could raise that tattered white flag
i could get shot dead and stabbed in the heart
oh
war
oh
love
oh
how i wish
i was not a combatant
all i want to do

is hold her


in


my



arms