Woebegone
Two
He wakes to my tears, rich on my face. Slipping like autumn leaves. He ignores them. The bed creaks liked an old man standing up. He leaves. The mattress becomes weightless. He showers, swears, yells again because the fridge is empty. He throws my purse on the bed and tells me to shop. I fall from the bed, count the twenty three dollars, and vanish out the door.
Twenty three dollars doesn't buy much. I gather the cheapest food I can find and hope that my sums add up. I have to put the coffee back. I spend twenty three dollars on nothing. Inside, the house is cold. Ghosts come here to spend the night when they have nowhere else to go. The sadness is between each crack, each hole and every empty space. It lives there, just waiting for us.
He’s gone. I unpack, lie on the ground and wait for death.
When he arrives home, I smell girl on his clothes, hands on his skins. Strings tighten around my heart. We don't say a word. He eats, he drinks, he leaves.
I sleep, I wake to his arrival. He kisses me, drunk, and passes out.
Twenty three dollars doesn't buy much. I gather the cheapest food I can find and hope that my sums add up. I have to put the coffee back. I spend twenty three dollars on nothing. Inside, the house is cold. Ghosts come here to spend the night when they have nowhere else to go. The sadness is between each crack, each hole and every empty space. It lives there, just waiting for us.
He’s gone. I unpack, lie on the ground and wait for death.
When he arrives home, I smell girl on his clothes, hands on his skins. Strings tighten around my heart. We don't say a word. He eats, he drinks, he leaves.
I sleep, I wake to his arrival. He kisses me, drunk, and passes out.