The rift within us

She lays on one side,
and he lays on the other.
                                            
she is a beautiful flower against the brutalized landscape,
he, thistle and thorn on a path rightfully left untrodden.
                                              
she is an ornate nib against the parchment, gliding with grace, 
he, a metal implement against the wood, etching with fire.                
                                              
she is my first musing in the early morning,
he, my final contemplation at night.
                                            
she is the uplifting ion in a chord of progression,
he, the dark, dissonant sharp breath of the fanciful ocean.
                                           
she smiles,
he frowns.
                                            
I know I can’t keep humoring the idea of compromise.
So get out of my head,
and croon the dirge with me.
                                               
no more rifts or ultimatums, please.
Please…
I can’t be alone any longer.
                                               
don’t make me choose right now.
No. NO.
Just hold me tight,
and tell me things will get better.
                                               
in my nightstand, there lies a bottle of pills
(some old opioids, I think)                                            
and a paring knife.
                                            
you both are the reason I don’t pick up either.
Both of you are my lifeline…
no more rifts or ultimatums, please.
Just both of you, and me.
                                              
can you love two people at once?

PIA MAJUMDAR