aborted rage bleeds quietly
in pastel shades of pain
I am thinking of the man
who broke and entered me
of the years it took to be home again
in this house I cannot leave
but what can I do with this ocean
in the sockets of my eyes
washed up again on a shore
of pounded bones
listening for the thunder of feathers
a vigil
letting each moment swallow the page
it was just a nightmare
wearing lipstick