Misery loves company,
and Misery loves a relationship even more.
A girl, pretty on the cursory eyes,
falls in love with a boy, sweet with the cosmetic lies.
Misery loves it when he slaps her around,
rather with his words, or with his fists,
and Misery loves it even more when she shuffles back, puffy-eyes apologizing,
for whatever it is she did, or didn’t do; she’d definitely do it right this time. […]
A Match Made In Misery
Misery loves company,
and Misery loves a relationship even more.
A girl, pretty on the cursory eyes,
falls in love with a boy, sweet with the cosmetic lies.
Misery loves it when he slaps her around,
rather with his words, or with his fists,
and Misery loves it even more when she shuffles back, puffy-eyes apologizing,
for whatever it is she did, or didn’t do; she’d definitely do it right this time.
Misery loves it when she threatens suicide for the umpteenth time,
and annoyed, the boyfriend mocks her for her “juvenile-theatrics”
which Misery it finds hilarious, because now this guy is racing to the hospital,
…because he’s listed as her one and only emergency contact…
Misery loves it when she doesn’t return any of his calls,
and the betrayal he feels by the breaking of the leash.
Misery finds it the most amusing indeed,
When he confronts her at her friend’s party
…and ends up kicked out, frothing obscenities at the mouth.
The boy loves the girl who loathes herself,
and the girl loves the boy who loathes all else.
Misery finds this union to be a match made in a misery:
The girl who thinks she found a rough boy,
who only needs her brand of loving,
and the boy who thinks he found an easy girl,
who only needs his right brand of screwing..
Misery becomes so boringly-depressed when they are at their best behavior,
when their love fits perfect, like a puzzle of a Monet masterpiece,
Misery can’t help but rage at the mundane, Zoloft, relationship.
But, don’t despair, there’s always despair, with this particular match.
Their friction inevitable starts increasing,
And now Misery is nowhere nearer to a greater indulgence,
than the anticipation of this couple becoming a ‘ticking time-bomb’,
ready for an explosion that Reality-TV finds brings in the ratings.
So, Misery never cares rather the couple blows apart, or simply breaks up,
Because, almost always, someone’s self-esteem will fault and quake,
and the whole, raucous, dance will resume,
abrasive, like a song, out of tune and stuck on repeat.
Misery will be waiting at their crossroads,
where the two perfectly broken two tend to match up,
convincing themselves, that this time, things will work out.
Yes, Misery loves company great…
But Misery loves couples the most.
02/25/11
M. L. Michael
About…
Every Breath Poetic 