Dread.
It's usually the same.
Panic and anxious breath and
dread.
     dread.
          dread.
One day, I always say, we will want something better
Something healthier
Absent of accusation and blame and misperception
Something that lifts us up beyond this hurt
Allowing us to remember why I risked everything
Why we thought it was worth what it's worth
And why we hurt people - for years
Just to be together
Fate decided to twist our guts into knots instead of granting us peace and togetherness at last
Replaced by isolation and burning tears
And now Tuesdays are those confrontations with fate
Do we spend the rest of the time we have building walls, favoring hope, or taunting hate?