Loathing her,
he left himself intact.
A bubble of violence
burst in his throat,
grouped, identified
as choking sounds
and silence.
Believing herself ugly
she wore it like there was some
all knowing, mysterious master
that demanded duty.
Martyrdom came easy
as each bronchiole clogged,
phlegm hit the tiled floor.
Every glance confirmed
winter landscaped their lives
Only weak pretty things
dreamt of gardens, springtime
they were the ones who
believed in beautiful words.
Perpetual motion
loathing, martyrdom.
Two people locked, caught
in a marriage of necessity.
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