Tug a war, chauvinist, feminist, being always in between,
sitting on the gate.
While opposites never attract,
just hold opposition, by reasonable means.
Married mind follows dutifully toward biblical extremes .
As backburner thoughts,
sore the heart,
on the brink,
to remain clean.
Curfew’s freedom, all answered calls plead, antagonized submissions, dying to relead.
Unspoken truths hibernate in error, waiting on logical kick ins,
to appear in thin air.
Uneven plateaus, exhausting long hike, when listening shutsdown,
for the need to be right.
Prides Ego saturates, tug a war in a truce,
flags go up, while words,
are still stewing in their juices.
Past instances show, where debates went wrong, as a speaker’s mic loudly plays static, like an old Blues song.
The road map of matrimony,
holds a distinct treasure,
but survivalist Gem detours,
through the endurance of turbulent weather.
apologies that never come,
one sided thinking, changes sirens to deafening hums.
Offering defensed answers,
and reactions to be done
as seconds off the lips,
tug on a war, for days to come.
Poetry By Tamara L Dorsey-Moore~ TOTL
COPYRIGHT (C) 2016 Reserved for Tamara Moore and select audience