Love is what they call it

A relationship in moments of breaking
Their joking words become truth
"At least the sex is always good"
Only small fibers hold to their fighting
Her hand a constant turning, now one with the door handle
Laying naked in the bed, no other words are heard
A constant misunderstanding
"At least the sex is always good"
He redesign her with out her knowing
Slowly tearing her voice away
She wants to believe in his changing
The door handle reminds her, he is not releasing
"At least the sex is always good"
He loves her dearly yet he finds her embarrassing  
His words are soothing, taking her anxiety away
He has the cue cards convincing her naive thinking
The joke is now engraved humbling
"At least the sex always good"