I don’t want to be near you or even hear you as you babble on and on.
The room is way too small and the air too stale.
I don’t want to lay eyes on your face. Why are you still here in my space?
My eyes blackened by the words that you hurl.
I don’t want your skin to touch places that use to be kin.
Our massive bed is now the size of a twin.
And this fight seems to go on and on.
I believe that this is day 18. Today’s challenge is to stay away from end rhyme and work with eternal rhyme only. Here is my attempt at internal rhyme.
My neighbors fight a lot. When I say a lot, I mean every single day. My husband and I share townhouse walls with them so every insult, slam of a door, and scream can be heard. This is their poem.