"do you like creating disasters?" he asked her
and she wants to say yes,
so that he will hate her.
instead she says, "maybe i'm the disaster."
because she thinks,
it might be enough.
[if he hates her, it'll be so much simpler.]
they've fought so hard, for so long,
with histories they wish they could forget.
and she's worn thin
and he's bottling anger
and they're too tired to try
"i don't want you to change...
- but i don't think i'll change either."
and with a stalemate
she walks on eggshells as he turns away.
"you're not the disaster," he says.
and she is reminded of
every whisper
every dream
every moment -
and her heart in his hands, no matter what she says.
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