Pressing charges

Memories of you have hidden in tomorrow’s corner

like a big black cat

purring, thunder, rain and rage,

police doors opening questions and you crying ,

“but I love you ”

until I agree not to press charges

hobbling over broken glass on the grass outside our bedroom

where you throw lamps and potted plants

“because you had a bad day”

I am so sick

of your bipolar shadow lurking, threatening, whining

on the edge of my lashes.

Get your thumb sucking, tantrum throwing ass out here and fight me like a man.

Yeah, that’s right you heard me and my five foot five,

small boned clenched wrists,

quivering around the edges of an hour glass

Get the hell out here

We’re finishing this.

Right.

Now.

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