This morning we hugged. You apologized and I could tell that you meant it this time because you cried and you begged me to stay and you cried.
That's how it works, right? People cry when they mean things? Or has every day just been practice and last night only the dress rehearsal leading up to your main act right here kneeling in front of me on a tile floor glued together by lies and a carpet woven by false love.
And I know that I should pay more attention to the man behind the curtain but right now, in this moment, I forget. I forget the thunderstorm in your voice I forget the earthquake in your fist and the volcano in your eyes.
I forget the fear that made me sleep in my car I forget the sadness that made me want to end my life I forget the manipulation that made me think it was all my fault. Because in this moment, none of it matters.