Left me in the lobby
of your apartment building
for hours,
drunk--
spitting insults
at the doorman--
till you salvaged
enough pity to
let me in.
You were
getting ready for bed,
I was on the couch,
while you shook
your head
in the sink.
"The worst
relationship with a man
I've ever had,"
you said,
"you don't even
listen to me."
Oh, sweetheart, I do,
I hear every word.
Especially the ones
carved out of that
insurmountable anger
and regret.
I hear them.
I see them etched
into your features,
dipping between
your dimples,
and pouring out
of the tears that
slipped so fiercely
down the drain.
That anger was so
volatile
I thought you'd **** me
then and there.
However, you merely
turned your head
and slammed the door.
And we may make it
through this, but that
anger is still down there
somewhere, waiting.

I never knew how
violent someone
could be just
brushing their teeth.