day after Christmas

You tore the shit down off the walls and

Broke the window and

held the door shut while I tried to get out.

You said I would listen and I said I wouldn’t,

Not for the tenth time.

You’re a train that jumped the track.

I shouldn’t have left that pebble.

I could give you something to get really mad about.

You cry and I don’t.

I don’t have tears, I’m hot inside and

Over it.

I don’t know how to bridge this gap.

You’re stuck in my endless rinse cycle.

You resent me for things that happened before I was born.

I pushed you and you pushed me back

Down, over, through.

I park at the old college by our house and there’s no one but a security guard to buzz by and wonder about me.

He doesn’t ask and if he did I don’t know what I’d say.

Probably that I’ve been drowning for a long time.

Probably that after coming four times last night you still woke up irrational.

I thought I could appease you enough to slide by but I must have left you drained.

You tell me that this is how to live a life.

You tell me to be good. I want to scream and don’t. I want to tell you to go fuck yourself and do. You put a big dent in the copper bowl I never cook with because I love it too much to get it dirty.

Now we’re all dirty and I have to wade back through the wreckage to rescue the dog.

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