He’ll show her more of why he is shattered of soul
Bare his teeth and pick at old wounds, his and hers, a sick and twisted savage cycle
Round and round and round it goes
where it stops nobody knows
He moved back in bringing with him more than just baggage
Fists that know only anger
Sowed into the fabric of her consciousness
The sun sizzled and baked the pumpkin patch. They are armed with smiles – no one keeping score
But behind closed doors
All is as before. An imperfect circle and nothing more
Copyright John de Gruyther 2017
The World Outside the Window 
nice one
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