Jane and John wrote country songs.
Her on piano, him on guitar.
His voice crooned, her voice cooed.
With such sweet, sorrowed sounds, went wept the room
On the road to here and there.
Jane and John traveled everywhere.
Jane was married. John had a wife.
Jane's husband loved her. John's spouse was nice.
Still, they were married to each other, in a creative sense.
And marriage comes with problems. Problems cause arguments.
Jane wanted that; John wanted this.
Offstage tension, on stage bliss.
"She'll come around." "He'll come to Jesus."
Their music thrived as they both broke to pieces.
His voice grew hoarse and his guitar strings broke.
She started screaming at his silent ghost.
They separated. Music sheets on the floor.
Jane and John don't speak anymore.
John keeps busy. John stays home.
Jane aches. Jane waits. Jane is alone.
The depth and the breadth of Jane and John.
Magic. Madness. Hopeless. Gone.