Pacing into love,
something rarely done,
she yearns to take her
twisted self and straighten this all out.
The sporadic thoughts he stutters
are merely vulgar impulses
of looking for a way out.
Or looking for her in you. The love he craves.
This tango that's been tangled
danced them all out before their own eyes
confused their passion into cynic lust.
Relationships can be artful ways of murdering an individual.
The way he views them is merchantable
and, morally, she can not afford a love that costs.
Luxurious companionship once shared
has withered far from intimacy.
No longer are they joined.
No longer do they share
thoughts that bride* them together.
The self has returned to her.
*Bride apparently means a connection consisting of a thread. So I manipulated its usage, not sure if it worked that well.
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