Love is love until it’s a chore;
conversations so flat they fall flat on the floor.
We never get angry but we’re both keeping score;
“Baby can you not snore?”
“Why must I go to the store?”
Our soundtrack is slamming doors
and obnoxiously loud stomping on the floor.
It gets worst & worst until full-blown war.
Love is love until it’s friction-galore –
start loving now before you storm out the back door.
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