I am a hot thrashing thing,
I have horrid taste.
Unchanged
I could not see the passion in you
any more than you could see the pain in me.
We laid ill-matched in a nest of turmoil
waiting until the storm would pass by.
The rain never put your fire out,
nor did it quench my sorrow.
I watched you behind discordant eyes
and left in the morning no more whole and no less broken than the night before.