I Call For A Truce Poem by Mark Heathcote

I call for a truce.
I come in peace waving a briny white flag.
There are far too many inconsistencies for me to believe you.
There are so many denials, too many to mention.
That doesn't equate or add up to the fact.
That I choose to forgive and forget to forge ahead blindly.
It's not a matter of right or wrong.
Or who has the blissful facts?
We have a slanted point of view, shared.
That is grey in all areas and aspects.
I am not staying; you must be wrong or I am right.
Diplomacy, after all,
Is I guess a gift rarely shared by passionate lovers?
We fight over the bed covers, and the TV. Remote.
We argue about the weather from two sides of the fence.
But honestly -do we ever get on that fence together, holding hands in a mutual amicable surrender?
And listen to the claps of distant thunder?