Two Sides ... a poem

Two Sides

He loves me not as I
love him. He shuts his eyes.
I cannot see. He does
not try while I travail.
His mouth is closed to my
blank stare. In him, I wait
for answers to fulfill
my questions floating in
dry air. But he contends
to turn on me his wide,
broad back to my lean frame,
and I, unable to
break in, instead I break
in two. My soul wears thin.

~cdw
01.11.10