We thought it would last forever – their bond so tight it seemed inseparable. But was it affection, or just the architecture of need? Laughter cost something in those crowded rooms, and noise could be mistaken for closeness. But it wasn’t warmth – just the friction of egos brushing on stage. They built monuments – not to each other, but to reflections, polished and posted. Their victories tasted of envy, not joy, everything wrapped in clever. But power doesn’t whisper, it roars, then hums behind the scenes. So when it broke, it didn’t crack. It revealed what was always there – two flags flying, side by side, but only one wind, fierce and hungry, bending destinies toward the inevitable divide. And now that it’s over, we watch them circle. They strike with practiced grace, each knowing exactly where the other hides their softest parts. What once passed for loyalty moves like rumor now, betrayal turned to bile. The wreckage doesn’t stay between them. They drag us into the fire, because we were part of their story all along – someone to control, collateral damage, pieces on the board.
Much more dignity in this poem than they deserve. Brilliantly done.
“They drag us into the fire.”
How appropriate and especially poignant this week.
Great writing. Thanks.