Fireworks

I love being with dysfunctional couples. Couples that aren't even couples because they know it wouldn't work, couldn't work, would never work, but they still keep coming back to each other like they're being pulled by magnets or some undiscovered gravity. 

I like to watch them walk around each other as if what they have is a dark secret shared only between the two of them. A passion so intense they can't show anyone else. Something blinding. 

They fight. They're mean, ruthless. Words that roll out of them like razor blades. I can see their mouths sore and wet. I can smell iron. 

I love their company. I love the fireworks.

The austerity. The arrogance. 

I love it's not us.