Would we be different, You and I,
Had I laid waste to my aggressor?
Had I broken open new horizons,
With the cleaving of his skull?

Would I still find solace in your arms?
Would you be as gentle as you have always been?
Or would we wage war on an unrighteous world?
A new-age Bonnie and Clyde, making love as blood pools around us?

I think I would rather not know.
For what might be spent in grief and murder,
Is better spent lost in each others’ eyes, each others’ arms,
As we dance on the edge of madness.

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