He was hurting her
and she tried to make it better,
to calm him,
make him complacent.
“It’s cool; let’s go,”
she said in the wake of his rage,
a snow cone in the furnace.

He would have none of it,
seeking only to hurl vitriol,
invective and violence
like some sprinkler on wide blast.
He wanted others to hurt
like he had

and she did
feel pain
but not like his.
She hurt
but in a different way.
Empathetic. And,
while he sought to share his hate,
she hoped only to heal.

They both got what they wanted
for a little while.