the honeymoon's over
the dance has begun
broken footed
on a field
of familiar and forewarned
eggshells
as far as the eye can see
he strips naked
weary
discarding baggage
and guilt
obligations that are not
his to oblige
his sword his only
possession
cutting strings
and ties
carving through the bullshit
that he was advised against
not surprised this time
but ill; weak
and disappointed
that nothing really changes
reserving his strength
for his own battle
not wishing to sink anyone's
battleship
any longer
longing only to survive
another unwanted day
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