Only two steps from fate he said.

Two steps from me.
Two steps from she.
Two steps from death.
Two bullets left in Russian Roulette.

When you’re counting your life by twos,
there’s never room; bar-none.
You’ve spent your time dealing in numbers, and puns.
Two brains for my lowly one
is how it’s come to seem.
As cliche as it sounds, we’ve never really played for the same team.
You’ve been calling the shots for yourself,
when every day I’ve gone to bat for us.

You might proclaim otherwise, but your words aren’t making the cut.
See, what you did was marry a slut.
Bitter, I know. A side of myself I will rarely show.
But the drugs, the rum, the time between and the baking sun,
have made for a man I know little of.

There might be a three-thousand mile gap,
but my heart has always been on tap–

Two rings from marriage,
two days via bus.
Two hearts entwined,
is one purely seeking lust?
[The numbers simply don’t add up.]

Maybe its just an anomaly:
But 28 hours of travel,
covering 3,000 miles of distance,
after 6 years of commitment,
does not yield 2 weeks in hell.

See, if we wanted to play with numbers I would tell you that 21 is young.
70 hours of work a week is pushing your luck.
3 months of marriage shouldn’t lead to divorce.
And the expression “It’s already been 5 years, what’s one more”,
will only end in retort.

What I meant when I proclaimed my love,
is that I found home in your arms.
And when I gave you my forgiveness,
I was not being manipulative.

I didn’t let you back in to my life to fill it with figures and strife.
I am not a crutch for hire; I am not made of stone and raw-iron.
There may be pieces of me under lock and key,
but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve stripped me of my security.

You are not Atlas; You can not hold the world in your bare hands.
You will not compromise my future because you want to be someone’s
right-hand man.
You will not write me off in this game of digits.

I am a woman not divisible by two.
I have one side–
one side which I have consistently shows to you.

You can keep yourself two steps from me.
Two steps from overflow,
Two steps past your means.

Distance your mind enough to believe that you’re two steps from anywhere.
Two steps from everywhere than where you actually are.

Because last I counted I had one heart,
one conscious, one womb, one seam.
One mind, one life and one dream.
If you’re going to continue to count by twos,
I guess its safe to say that I still have room for you.
Because one and one…
will inevitably be too few.


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