Mismatched Hearts

They had fights before,
But nothing like this
Had ever transpired.
All the pussyfooting
Around sensitive issues,
Ended in a vulgar eruption.

It was always the case,
That even in heated arguments
The exchange was kept civil.

At times things got loud,
But would end on a good note,
Even agreeing to disagree.

This one was different,
As things escalated
From already heated points.
He had come home angry,
She was already drunk,
Waiting with his cold dinner.

They’d been pretending
When either had the energy,
That their love hadn’t died.
But both their cups were full,
Her questions and his answers
Caused it all to spill over.

Ugly words passed between them,
Now that the gloves were off
Both were vile and viscous. 
Horrible painful things were said
In the raging war of words
That blasted from both of them.

He locked himself in the bathroom,
After hours of mutual verbal abuse,
Doing who knows what in there.
She pick up her pride and broken heart,
And vase, and tea cups, and dinner plates,
And other items littering the room.

Too numb to be cut by splinters,
She washed her hands
And packed her few clothes.
She sat to write a note
As he entered the bedroom,
Taking a seat on the bed behind her.

But there was nothing left to say,
Bag in hand she stood at the door
And quietly left with no good bye.
He went to the kitchen for water,
The shower had hardly calmed him
His blood was still boiling.

This eruption of things that festered,
Was the death knell of a relationship
That could’ve ended no other way.
It wasn’t so much of a fight,
As it was the necessary severing
Of broken mismatched hearts.

Ria 2016