Prose 04/08 11:42 PM

I fall down into those thoughts

those memories and impressions

of angry nights and justifications,

of feeling so raw I made myself sick,

I think of her rage

and her fear

and her dread,

and it swallows me down

as I lay in my bed

After a while I open my eyes

to see you mending your shirt,

and cracking your knuckles

and taking a sip

and I remember what year I am in,

and I let my fear retire,

and I turn my face to you