The morning sun penetrates the sheer curtains
and wakes her up. She stretches, becomes aware
of the tight embrace that’s restricting her movements.
A wide grin parts her lips. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
When she tries to turn and twist to look upon his face
she begins to understand she’s only caught up in the covers.
He didn’t come home. The knowledge darkens the sun’s rays
and causes her room to feel like a prison cell, no longer home.
She sits up with the knowledge that he told me he would change
is just a refrain, something she sings to herself to keep from
going insane from continuously dealing with the same mess.
The meaning of insanity is doing the same things and expecting
things to change. And she fears she’s going insane.
It doesn’t take long for her to get dressed because
like a fireman she’s always prepared for the distress of
In the streets, she takes turns she’d never take if it wasn’t for
the fact of loving him. She steps through doorways of abandoned
houses, walks down alleyways, walks up to groups of men
whose darkened eyes and dark intentions frighten her, but she’s
trying to find him. Always in the back of her mind, she’s afraid
that she will find him.
She fears the day she will find him unconscious or dead.
She fears the day she will find him with a needle in his arm.
Is that how he chooses to get high? She doesn’t know because
she’s never bothered to ask. She doesn’t want to know how
he chooses to escape, she just wants him to not feel the need to
escape. She fears finding him with his eyes closed, not knowing
if he’s dead or just so high, he’s unreachable.
It’s fear that keeps her walking the streets. It’s fear that keeps her
believing that she has to keep chasing love when it keeps running from her.
It’s fear that keeps her from believing that the morning after should be
spent this way, chasing an elusive love instead of wrapped up peacefully
in her sheets, in her bedroom. That she should be home, the only place
she truly belongs.
Peace & Love,