What Love is This

Hurt me deep and expect me to turn my pain into poetry,
Take me for granted and expect me to treasure you,
Never look my way yet expect me to be in tune with your every emotion,
Love me selfishly and expect me to love you wholeheartedly.

Do my tears excite you? Does my sorrow enthrall you?
Why do you act like all you want is for me to be in perpetual anguish,
When was the last time you saw a smile on my face that reached my eyes?
Am I not a worthy woman in your eyes to deserve kindness?

How did we get here? We used to embody love in its entirety,
We used to be so intertwined in mind and body, in tune with each breath,
emotion, look, touch, caress...You were my everything.
You used to complete me, my every reason for existing.

Now, as I think of you, tears stream down my face at the last fight,
It's the only way we know how to communicate,
I silently sob into my pillow as you snore into yours,
I start to dissect every single thing that brought us to this point.

We seem to be in a stalemate, having the same fight over and over again,
Each of us unable to hear the other, each unwilling to give in,
Finally I drift into a fitful sleep haunted by graphic nightmares,
Reminding that its a lull in the storm, we will wake to hurt one another again.