the lost war

she calls you
a name. a bad name.
you're having a fight.
but she's using
sharp weapons, words
of swords, bullets
of memories.
poison darts
of promises broken
and remembered.
it isn't a fair fight
at all. as you throw
a marshmallow
or two
of affection
in her direction.
you duck the flame
thrower
of jealousy, run out
of the line of fire
from the cannon
ball of her broken
heart. it's a lost
war.