An Impasse

The clock struck eleven, 
maturing the night,

ticking fleeting glimpses 
in the presence of ignorance.

Their bodies tensed 
due to the nightly routine.

Noise struck the walls 
as diagrammatic sound waves,

almost visible with the intensity of it.

He said she treated him like a child, 
alluring him with sparkly things.

He said she restrained him in a 
strangely condescending way.

He said she was a semblance 
of an earlier self.

And then a long silence ensued

-cursed eternity, it seemed to him-

For there was no retaliation, 
or yet another diatribe that followed.

He screeched hungrily 
as he fed off of her,

as she lay defunct, 
with nothing left to be fed on.

She lay there still alluring him,

still restraining him,

as a semblance of an earlier self.

She lay there with no heart 
beating inside her chest.