those were days
when everything
was a secret
when my husband
smoked meth
and spit
and screamed
seizing in his chair
when you said
I will wait for you
and for once
I was not alone
you whispered
of the splintered night
made whole
black silk rippling
over the stoic mountains
my world was a sphere of glass
a room of smoke
my world was a mouth full of teeth
a room carpeted in ash
you were kite
you were parachute
a hawk rising
from the canyon floor
my pulse
my breath
my bruises
all leaning toward you
over the cliff edge
thinking
this is how we fall
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