Your hair is dark brown,

but you swear it's black.

Mostly for the sake of arguing, I think.

We argue about it.

A lot.

We argue about other things, too.

Like how we'll pay the bills,

or where was I last night,

or where were you last night,

or why you don't like my friends,

or why I don't like yours,

or why you have to work two jobs,

or why I want to finish school badly,

or how you don't like the food I make,

or how you almost burned the house down,

or how you ran a red light,

or how I speed.

We argue about lots of things.

The people living next door can hear us screaming

and yelling

and shouting.

This isn't a healthy relationship, they say.

How can you argue so much?

It's not healthy to run out crying,

but when we don't argue,

I don't know what else to say.

Your hair is dark brown,

but you swear it's black.