The most recent
Day one.
Your stillness
Thrashes.
Your silence
Screams.
And I hope
This stays a one.
I don’t dare hope
That there’s a two.
And I wish you would struggle out loud.

I’ve been afraid
Before
But always
Of a thing
Always
In a space.
These days though,
Fear circles my skull,
No matter what.
No matter where.
And I often forget how to breathe.

“Because you drink too much,”
I say
Matter of factly
With giggles in my voice.
You do not giggle.
And as you pull your hand away
I watch something else
Slip from reach
And suddenly
I am alone.

We both know
I’m bad at breakfast.
And good at preparing it for others.
But today I wish I liked eggs,
Loved a muffin,
Or toast.
So we could still love each other
When you prepare your own.

He watches her,
Jaw set,
As her eyes plead
The case her lips
Can’t speak.
“No,”
His eyes respond.
And, “not again,”
From his clenched jaw.
And “no... god please, no,”
From his tired shoulders.
And the dog barks,
And the kid calls,
And she moves as he walks past.
“I’m not leaving,”
She whispers,
With confidence,
To her angry cat,
“And sometimes that scares me.”

I’m stumbling around in the dark
When you clutch my shoulders.
(I’m probably thirsty,
Or going to ***.)
“I love you so much,”
I hear you say.
“I’m so sorry.”
And I think I hear tears in your voice.
And maybe it’s my tequila and benadryl,
Or your whiskey and coke,
But probably it’s both.
“Forever,”
I hear myself say,
And I know you feel tears on my face.
“Forever.”
And you refill my water while I *** in the dark.

And in the morning
I roll out
My old mat.
And on it
I gather
My stray
Yearnings
Concerns
Memories
Regrets
Hopes
Et cetera,
Making room
For them to thrash
And reach
And tumble about
Without taking me with them.