One step forward,
and three steps back.
A leap,
hop,
skip,
and a jump towards everything right and safe.
Combined with a sudden rug pulling,
and all the china falls off the shelves,
shattering all we worked for.
A grin like a sunbeam,
a laugh,
then the torrent starts again behind closed doors.
Carefully penned lines that speak of love
like the wind through the aspen leaves,
pale under the weight of scribbled thoughts in blood and reopened scars down her arm.
And the rice paper lanterns,
painted with flowers of the purest reds and uplifting yellows,
are burnt with the hatred in her broken eyes.
Because for every smile,
three dozen tears wet the counter-pane.