Something on the Darker Side

Weekends

Every weekend
you choose
a weapon
(my family,
my career,
ambitions or dreams)
You hurl it
with deadly force
and pinpoint accuracy
at what is left of
my love.
My trust, the casualty.
After I have fallen,
you carry your
oblivious indifference
in your beer-stained cloud
to bed,
leaving my wounds and I
unattended and alone.

Next weekend -
You will not so easily
find me in range.