Chrissy…

Dramatic Miss Chriss

can’t handle her piss.

Attention is what she most craves.

Big tantrums & tears

after just a few beers.

Without fail,

is how she behaves.

.

Bless this mess…

Another domestic.

Another fight.

He’s never wrong,

and she’s never right.

Teenager jumps in,

the intent is as saviour…

But it’s fuel to the fire,

of bad behaviour…

.

Stupid…

I swung from the ceiling,

till it all crashed down.

Bang, crash and sawdust,

Red wine, egg, clown.

My sis came and saved me,

She cooked me some food.

Iv been talking her ear off,

She’s been calming my mood.

Love and War…

bad-marriages-heart-attacks-01

Threats are made.

Promises broken.

In the heat of the moment,

cruel words are spoken.

Tears are shed,

The anger is loud.

It’s time to make up,

but we’re both too proud.

.

Hatred…

A seething dislike

causes emotions to overflow.

The desire to hurt

replaces reason.

Hands start shaking

from the intensity

of the need to scream,

wound, defeat, crush.

Red hot fury

brings blood

to the boil.

Control is lost.

The hated wins.

 

 

.

Two to tango…

And still, we try…

Dinner, wine, snort,

and more wine…

Apple pie and ice cream

with wine…

Awkward conversation

mingles with the accusations

in each others eyes…

Neither one willing to speak

about the real problem…

Anger.

Guilt.

Hurt.

Guilt.

Those who are without sin

may cast the first stone…

We both stand on similar ground.

We both have every reason to feel angry.

Guilty,

and hurt.

 

 

.

An overreaction…

A little wee molehill

started it’s day,

discussing a comment

it overheard someone say.

Words took on tones

and the tones became loud,

and the molehill grew bigger

with the noise of the crowd.

Tempers erupted

and proportions were blown,

and the molehill kept growing

each time anger was shown.

War was declared,

and so ends this recount,

of the little wee molehill,

that grew into a mount.

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

Remote Control…

A brick wall of hostility.

Impossible to break through it.

Any attempt is wrong.

No attempt is rude.

The silent treatment.

A most powerful tool.

Bomb shell…

From out of nowhere.

Harmonic destruction.

Stunned silence.

Scattered pieces.

Devastation erupts.

Questions surface.

Anger registers.

Sadness sets in.

Aftershocks ripple.

 

 

 

.

Scare tactics…

You cannot force my love

You won’t keep me with a scare

I don’t respect your anger

I refuse to live in fear.

I can’t be always wrong

You can’t control the way I feel

I won’t surrender to your violence

This time we’re over.

This time, for real.

 

 

Sometimes…

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

You’re nasty to me.Walking on Eggshells

well,

mostly you’re kind

I know your heart’s soft,  down deep inside

I like hearing you laugh, we share jokes to and fro

then out of the blue, your anger does blow

I feel so small and scared and weak

whatever I say you class as cheek.

I don’t want to leave cos we’ve been through so much

So I’ll patiently wait til love’s back in your touch…