I know it'll come,
simply a matter of time I tell myself.
The next time, thats the one.
Thats the one that pushes me.
Till then, I take it. I sit. I wait.
"Why get angry?" (I ask myself)
"Its just how she is. You knew this".
You knew this.
I shuffle beside her,
waiting.
"Just get up and walk.
Explain later. More effect and drama."
Thats what I'm going for, a scene for just the two of us.
"Enough is enough."
But the room plays its tricks, and world changes tack.
I relax beside her,
forgetting.
enjoying.
Another show, another night speachless, but happy.
Assuming this happiness isn't an illusion. we smile, we laugh.
Do we love?
We're in eachothers arms. Do we love?
A question for another night, I tell myself.
I turn to move upstairs, and in the kerfuffle it comes.
It burns.
My anger returns, I regain my poise and precission witt (the little I posses)
and for that moment its time to strike....
But it was so long ago the last incident occured;
Can I really justify myself now?
Can I really 'ruin' the evening, now?
I lie beside her,
waiting.
"Tomorrow" I tell myself.
Tomorrow, I'll hate myself.
Tomorrow, I'll realise how weak willed I was.
Tomorrow, That'll be the one that pushes me.
Till then, I take it. I sit. I wait. I delay.
