I hate the nights when I
end up talking to myself in
frantic whispers, to reassure
myself that I am being heard.
I hate the nights when the
only audible thing to hold on
to is the neighbor's dog and
the rumble of a close train.
I hate the nights when I
have forgotten the cadence
of your voice and I barely
remember the shape of your face.
I hate the nights when my
stomach turns and the only way
to fall asleep is to watch TV with
headphones in until my body
starts to lean over and sigh.
I hate the nights when the only
safe spot is my back against the
wall, knees to chest, telling myself
you were just one man and we
were never, could never be, equals.
I hate the nights when my brain
sounds the alarm repeatedly:
