buttering her toast

it wasn't so much
that he couldn't
live without her,
he told the man
sitting beside him
at the bar, it wasn't that
at all.
they were both miserable
and had to move on
or die, it wasn't
that, he said, staring
into his drink,
moving the ice around
with a swizzle stick,
we love each other,
but we fight
until there's no fight
left inside us.
I can leave her
and be happy again,
I can live without her,
I can do that, but I just
don't want
anyone else buttering
her toast.
then he looked up
and said, do you know
what I mean. the man
next him nodded
and said I do.