A Wife Ponders Broken Triangles

That was then, this is now:
Nonsense words will tell me how
To keep the crack closed in my brain
That opened once, sets free my shame.
Not passion, love, friendship, loss
But overlay of something dross.
Not I loved you or you loved me
But red run rampant, blood set free.
Our fun, we’re one, marriage
Now a broken, rushing, tipping carriage
Much too small to carry three.
But will it be you, or it be he
the corpse?