He came home drunk and quarrelsome in the early hours of the morning, seething bitterness and malcontent. I was working late, my mind lethargic from a lack of sleep and slow to grasp the situation. Comprehension dawned on me too leisurely, but I quickly countered by retreated into myself as protection.
Words, sharp and barbed, penetrate yielding flesh and leave me reeling. I curl protectively around my vulnerabilities and set my mind free. It’s not enough, the damage is done and my thoughts crystallize on the hurt. I start to question what I’m doing and what I ever get out of this “relationship.” A heavy sadness descends to encompass me, and tears well up behind closed eyelids.
I hold back the feminine instinct to smooth things over, and apologize regardless of who is right or wrong. Instead I sign off and crawl defeated into bed, the covers pulled up tightly to my chin. I know it’s a desperate bid to forget what just happened, but to stay awake is to prolong the anguish.
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