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.



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