she held me th way one kicks aside smeared bug, which is to say: gentle, unwilling, and all fearing
th tender pain she left to mold felt all weakness leave my body
her darkness was th light with which i navigated the puddles of beer and wet clothes, th very image of a god in utero
i was again, the bug, carcass and feeling all stuck
tethered to reality by trauma and th promise of survival
yet still
in very much th same way one flicks about th switches to lights that have lng since felt th soft burn of life give out, she asked if i loved her
to which i replied: i don't - i don't - i don't - i don't feel safe