One finger over the other,
strands lacing together in blonde streaks
pulling the shadow back away
from my face,
tugging
at the missing pieces
until they all tucked neatly
in the right places.

You yelled at me last night
after we both got home.
I was in the shower, the steam
suffocating my already
weakened breath.
I could hear you shuffling
through the medicine cabinet
above the sink
"****!"
when the pills
spilled
all over the white tile floor,
and you without glasses
blindly searching for the pain relievers.

"I think you're taking this whole thing the wrong way"
you stated as I turned the faucet
all the way to the left.
The pressure of the shower
stabbed my back like hail
as you kept defending yourself
from the other side of the curtain.

I cried but you wouldn't be able
to tell which droplets were the tears.

I was silent the whole way through.
Pushing my hair back and massaging
my neck with my fingers
as you slammed the bathroom door.

I crawled in after I dried myself
with a towel I found in the hamper.
Your feet were hanging out of the covers.
I tucked them in and lied awake
until the alarm went off this morning.