A Lover's Quarrel

"That's it!" I exclaimed, picking up the exquisite set of blades that lay on the wooden table before me.
"No!" He screamed staggering forward in front of me, blocking my path.
"Get out of my way!" I said sternly, clenching the blades tightly and staring deeply into his brown innocent eyes.
"I can't let you leave." He said his voice faltering almost, the way that it does when someone is trying to make themselves believe that what they're saying is true. There was a time that I would've been like that, a time before the broken part of me would've tried talking myself into hoping but that was before the stone hard truth struck me; the truth  that you can't fix what can't be fixed and not being able to will just drive you insane. There will be no justice, not unless I make it and I planned to.
"He has to pay for what he has done to me otherwise the cycle will just continue. I need my justice, he needs to pay!" I exclaimed.
"And he will but not like this...never like this." He responded, his eyes pleading I could tell, I could always tell when he was pleading.
""Why won't you let me have my justice?" I asked, edging towards the small gap between him and the wall but he must've noticed because he stepped in my way.
"This isn't justice it's vengeance, it's murder!" He exclaimed.
"He'll still get punished." I pointed out, trying to edge towards the gap between him and table but he stepped in front of me again.
"It's still murder!" He snapped back at me. That word murder he spat at it as if poison, as if dirty filth as if he knew the meaning of the word, as if he would've known what it's like to see someone else's life like eyes grow strangely dim, soul escaping their body right before your eyes. Some things are just necessary, a killer like me would always understand that. How could I hope that someone not like me would?
"He won't stop." I said, somehow calmer now, on the verge of crying, craving the tears but they just wouldn't come.
"You can't go around killing people." He said.
"But.." I started to say.
"Please." He interrupted.
"Let me past." I said as calm as possible, a deathly calm, the only calm I had left in me.
"Please." He repeated.
"I'm a killer it's what I do." I muttered.
"Don't do this. There's another way, there is always another way." He urged. I made no answer.
"Just put the blades down please." He said. Once more I  made no answer, staring at the edge of the table.
"For me please." He said and within that moment I looked up into those soft brown eyes that were so filled with innocence. I would've given anything if not for those words for me please ; words that are dear, words that seem so real, especially from his lips. My only vulnerability, my only weakness, words that were enough to calm the fire of my rage. He knew me well.
"Just put the blades down." He said, his voice calm, no longer in contemplation in self belief of his words he'd just spoken  and just like that I placed the blades back on the table. Tears seemed to fill in his eyes but non of them fell. Not even once.
"I love you." He said, another phrase that eased me, another that softened the very depths of my heart.

Our Minds After

After all that's happened why do you still care? That is a question that I have been asking myself after many have asked me the same thing. I am without answer, not even my illogical mind can muster a theory or to and even when it tries to it's not a solid one. "You can't care still unless you still have feelings for him!" My lover exclaimed  with tears in his eyes. "I love you and only you!" I reassured him. He had a point though, how can I care when the one who brings all that pain back brings me so much much pain even still. I shouldn't really but I do. Subconsciously I do but in the forefront I hate. I have a right to! What he has done to me is scarring, I'm going to have to deal with it for the rest of my life because of him. 

He is my sworn enemy but somehow I can stand him. I have been dealing with him for 2 years now, or at least attempting to. It's a never ending cycle between me and him, he does something, I flip or I do something and he flips. Then the rest of it consists of locked arms at each other and gnashing teeth, anyone between us (no matter who they are) gets caught in the firing line and then silence. He tries to figure me out, claiming to know me and I in turn do the only thing that I'm good for. I analyse his behaviour patterns and claim to have his behaviour patterns down and I do but I dare to go deeper, claim to have it down but then I fail. He figures me out and I try to figure out why he does what he does, that's all. That's all it has been, that is all it'll ever be. 

The cycle
The expectation of getting hurt
Somehow our lives are intertwined, somehow it's meant to be this way. 
I know not why or how, destiny or fate I know not. 
Each to their own after OurMindsAfter the storm.