A crime of passion
Tempers flare
Fists raised in anger
Two people once lovers
Become bitter enemies
As the flick of a coin
The sides and tables turn
Voices raised
Voices once used to sing
And whisper loving words
My mother’s artistic side
Drawing the pictures on my wall
Singing my lullaby as I fell asleep
The hands that tuck me in
As I drift away to sleep
My father’s softer side would show
As he kissed my forehead
And fluffed my pillow
Where are those two people now?
Where did these Mr. and Mrs. Hyde come from?

A crime of passion?
Passion, isn’t that the thing
That ignites the flame between two lovers
Leaving them lusting for each other?
Isn’t that the spark
That every person secretly desires?
Passion is fleeting
Quick as a dying flame
And twice as temporary
But there’s something about it
The way it leaves you so quickly
And so anxiously wanting more
That everybody wants it.

But isn’t it also the thing
That drives a man to rape
That entices some to kill
To steal, to brutalize
To tease, to destroy
To injure, or to hurt someone
Doesn’t passion mean that as well?
Both the pain Christ felt
And the love as well?

This crime of passion
Committed in anger? Or lust?
Why is passion used for both?

And yet we are lustful
And we desire those to complete us
We lust and we rage
We desire and are angered
We love and we fight
Two bodies becoming one being
Or one complete meshing of two
Breaking down and becoming two again
Two which attempt to destroy each other
Are they truly fueled by the same fire?

Who’s to say I love you more than I hate you?