I Made Good My Escape

 

quiet as a mouse, i slipped out
the door. listening for a change
in his breathing, holding my own
breath. out the door. i drove
home as if drunk. i had taken
a lot of benadryl, you know.

came home and let the peace of
this place soothe me. finished
my book while i ate some hot dogs,
laid down and went right to sleep
and slept till 11:30 this morning.

and i feel unreal. i sit and i
keep hearing him, watching him
say those words, and i know i
don't feel the same. heaven help
me, i don't. i don't even want to.


this is hard. this is only a little
less painful than the actual event.
only marginally better than last
year. it doesn't matter when i tell
myself all the bad things that i've
figured out. it doesn't help to know
the things i know now. i wish to Christ
it did.

i do not choose this. this is not a
conscious decision, to bleed from my
soul like this. maybe at another time
i would have chosen this, but not anymore.
i would have gloried in this pain, drama
queen that i am. but not anymore. now
i just want it to be over.

i can't go over to Glenn's and apologize
for leaving him in the middle of the night.
i don't want to be online. i don't want any
reminders of what happened when i walked out
of my life two years ago.

in fact, i'm going to stop writing now and
go finish my laundry, find something else
to do until night falls and forces me back
to those places.

denise

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