In the early days
of our marriage, shocked
at the hurt that
love sometimes evoked,
we would lie
rigid and wide awake on
opposite sides,
with the middle ground
there between us
left unexplored territory.

Taught not to
go to sleep still angry,
we’d finally try
to negotiate a settlement,
each convinced
the other was at fault,
making matters
worse with words that
only added fuel
to resentment’s embers.

Rare now the night
when we go to bed irate,
for we’ve learned
it’s best to surrender and
allow the balm of
fatigue to erase mistrust,
knowing by dawn,
legs will cross the divide
to reconcile in
love’s unconditional touch.


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