It's a quarter before the alarm
breaks fitful sleep.
then remember that
I'm not alone here.
I wriggle from tether
and creep to the bathroom...
this floor creaks.
I laid it all out there
the penchant for
the lined up vials on the counter...
the space mask
the unwashed dishes
the magazines under the chair...
the book was found and unmentioned even.
I stood with arms crossed-defiant
door slightly ajar-waiting
I declined to talk about it-
tired of talk-
so instead we laughed
and ate the ice cream I made
and listened to that awful crackle
his shoulder makes when he turns it just so--
and the light turned to dark
and the dark turned to light
and I remembered all the things I thought I forgot...
and the note was scribbled on a scrap of paper
and I went out into the morning without a thought