Fighting over money.
Yet, I want more.
More money,
More to fight about.
We fight over the lack of intimacy.
Less intimacy.
The more we fight.
So we remove the intimacy.
More fighting over less.
More of me,
Less of you.
The more we fight.
Yet you are diminished even more.
I am full of myself.
My desire to fill you up with me.
Draining yourself of you.
Your identity lost.
Yet I look into a mirror.
With the same result,
Now, I am on the receiving end.
Our logic defies all logic.
My piece of mind,
Or my mind of peace.
It depends.
More or less.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem