Calls for Violence

These violent delights have violent ends. Here is the end: I did it again. Many months ago I made the same mistake, led myself by the nose into infernos barefoot and full-breasted, ready for pleasure and ready for pain.  

This time I did things different. I let you into my home, rest your head in my bed, fill your belly in my kitchen, put yourself between my legs. I did good. But I didn’t do better. I looked into the eye of the storm and thought: what a beautiful place to be. (It’s a terrible place to be.) 

I cancelled coffee dates, doctor’s appointments, brunch and lunch and everything else. I fell into your arms like into a hammock, swung merciless in your torrential rains. You ever loved somebody so hard you accidentally hardened yourself? (Baby, I am the rock and I am the hard place.)

Desperately seeking the end. Desperately seeking the words to mark the end. I suppose there are only two short words for it: the end.