Hablar con ira! (To speak with anger)
Blood boils, steam from it fills the room with mists of rage and vexation.
The silence cuts the mists with blunted scissors.
With displeasure, crossness and indignation he fills with self pity.
Then slowly burns the toxic fumes to comfort him.
She wallows in self hate and sorrow, he is numb from her lack of compassion.
As the mists pacified, regret enters the scene.
She sits alone crying in the cold room, head bashing on the walls of tepid stone.
He wants to comfort her, to caress her, to hold her but time freezes him in place.
The solemn couple dance their prance of condemnation until the rattled cage is opened.
The leafy rubbings the wrong way around upturn.
As hands of bone hold tightly till they shatter, skin flakes like snow fall like glitter to the floor.
She cries, he shouts, she storms out of the door.
The anguish of infidelity feasts on their souls then discards their withered bodies plunging them into the empty void.