The Couple

he comes home late
and all he can do is complain
about the damp laundry

she thinks
but the clothes are clean
can’t you see that

she holds her anger in
and he is incensed

she wants to avoid conflict
he wants to fight

he is tired
and feels trapped
in her domesticity

she is tired
of his errant ways
his car the symbol of that

and the skid marks
he leaves on her soul

she’s not sure
how much more
she can endure

/ / /

This poem was written using the theme of endure from One Single Impression incorporating damp, incensed, and skid from Three Word Wednesday. It is also a response to the cocktail of words prompt from We Write Poems.

I also offer it as my acceptance of the Perfect Poet Award for week 46 from Promising Poets’ Poetry Cafe. I nominate Henry Clemmons, who blogs at The UnderSide of Green.

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28 thoughts on “The Couple

  1. Let’s block ourselves from each other, and think despicable thoughts…that’ll make our life together better. 🙂 Excellent exploration of a messed up couple. Congratulations on your award. You rock, Mr. Walker (high fives)!

  2. You just described something so common in life.. More so here… I hear the same from so many around me! Well written poetry and congratulations on the badge 🙂

  3. And they’ll go in circles for a while, fencing and dodging, stisfying themselves with frequent, little nicks on the other’s skin, little knowing that love was slowly bleeding out from their own hearts, leaving it discoloured and rotten. Unless of course, they step out and breathe free and choose to walk along different paths or better still, take a deep breath and listen to each other’s tired heartbeats silently for a while till the language and poetry seeps back sanguinely again.
    Such a familiar tale , but so well expressed with such brevity .

    • dreamingthruthetwilight, thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful comments. I think there’s a poem in there. I hope they “listen to each other’s tired heartbeats silently for a while”.

      Richard

  4. This poem is like looking through a window of two strangers’ home. We only get a brief peek, but we already know them. And we already know how they’ll end up. The images of his car and errant ways leaving skid marks – poignant.

    • Fountains, thank you. What I love about poetry is how so much can be said so succinctly. I think you’re absolutely right about us knowing how they’ll end up.

      Richard

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