Feelings simmering…fine and dandy…for a while…but simmer for too long – the lid kept on tight – and they bubble over…triggering small explosions at first, then a torrent of frustrated, harsh words…fights, bitter arguments, and their toxic aftermath.
When there’s no way to blow off the steam, when lust isn’t acted upon except in fantasies and dreams…you end up with a witches’s brew… each nonaction, another turn of the screw —everything heightened, desperately askew.
Is there anything more pitiful than an emotional lover? Trapped in a bubble, without the release of sensual pleasures.
I’m a woman…a little too wise and grown, to take this blowing hot and cold…to understand your insistence…determination, to bury your head so deep in the sand…to watch you allowing us to disintegrate, by refusing to open the floodgates…to accept your willingness to keep us in this intermediate state…where we’re neither this nor that…yet this is where we are – we’ve been – at…for far too long…and you’re happy to prolong it, to leave things this way — fissures appearing regularly, painful jagged fractures, until we get to the final definite rupture, the ultimate break that can’t be mended, the eruption that could so easily be avoided…with simple common sense, and the courage to not go through life purposefully blindsided.
Image Credit: Lover-and-the-Wild’s DeviantArt Gallery