"where are you off to now?"
you pace.
you always pace when you are mad.

"just out."  i sigh as
i watch you run the carpet to rags.
"could you stop that?"

"out? just out?
all painted up like that?
why the *****'s paint if your
just out." with the carpet gone,
you hit concrete,
dust flies
back and forth back and forth
every sentence a lap
of our small room.

i look at my face for a long time
and add another layer to my
****** mouth
another swipe
of a ****** blush

you're at dirt now
digging down right into the earth
creating a trench that's fit
for any future we might have had.

"just out, just out,
you're always out.
why don't you stay home with me?"
you call up
from your deep dark
hole
you're grave built for two
getting deeper by the second.

i add some waxy lip gloss
the kind a ***** could be proud of,
all pink bubblegum and glitter.
never liked the stuff myself,
makes you look like your drooling.
but i know it makes you mad
and you'll never see me
wipe it off as
i walk out the door and
leave you
to your trench.