I can hear the accusing tones downstairs,
Muted yelling from below,
Can’t make out his words
‘Cause the pitch is too low.

Wincing at the thud of something hitting the floor,
Stomach twisting at the sound of tearing paper,
Pulse quickens as I hear him slam a door.

I shouldn’t have directed him towards her when he came to pester me.
Now everyone in the house is on edge,
So I’ll busy my hands and mind by keeping the kitchen clean.