Since my story is struggling and I desperately need to post, I am going to add a poem that I wrote this summer during another, and seemingly common, harrowing experience. These last two years have been tumultuous at best. So much had happened that I doubt anyone would really believe it all had I the guts to tell it. Anyway, this is about my ex-forever-ex-boss.
In the night I wake
In viscuous sweat.
My hands tremble fastidiously, and I feel
There is a presence coalescing
in the room.
I know it is him again
Peeling away the fine, loose wounds
To reveal what I have done;
Even while strumming the pages
of the precious books
He gave to me.
All the while stripping the hardened
Skin off my fingertips
with the knife
held fisted behind my back
Wavering, churning, fondling,
Waiting to plunge.
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