in their own little wonderland
(where they can be mad together)

-

a tug of war (and love;)
a deceptively sweet
battle for the upper hand.

with indifferent smiles
that deluded the passion,

they moved like butcher knives
(leaving an imprint...)

sharp, but far too weak to admit
to themselves that maybe (just maybe)
they needed more than their pride
in a place like this.

and in a game this complex,
no one ever wins
(without a little compromise)

so she gives a consuming smile
with a relenting kiss,

and she whispers, "you're m(y sp)ine."

more than a year, and this is everything to me.