A modern yet timeless theme for today's poem.
THE QUARREL
Some conflict forced the two of us to choose
to step apart or try to reconcile.
Hot-headed, both of us, we let the booze
decide for us, both guilty without trial.
Friends sought to intercede, provided cues
for us to meet: we missed them by a mile.
When one said yes, the other would refuse,
the reasons or excuses, versatile.
We neither one would wear the other’s shoes.
Resentment grew and, with resentment, bile
that poisoned everything: each would accuse
the other of disloyalty and guile.
A thought occurs, which we dare not speak of:
that hatred is the dark sibling of love.
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