My mom walks me to bed as I chatter about my day
Tucks me in tight and reassures me she’s okay
Kisses my forehead then stops at the door, gives me one last look as I think of the horror
I force my head into my pillow and try to hold my breath, and then thought to myself; what if I held it to my death?
Would their fighting just stop? Would mommy feel better? Or would they give up on love altogether?
Lifting my head from the pillow I go sit by the door, the same place I sit every night listening to the horror
I clench my moms scarf and cry into its hues, wishing to go back to my parents “I dos”
Maybe our lives wouldn’t have to be so hard, but I guess we can’t live in a hallmark card