i detach myself, and in the midst
think this is not about you
just make him happy and it will all go away

i know better than to say it aloud,
or to believe it logically -
especially when we are just talking,
or reading, or baking cookies.

but he enters me, and moans.
and his face twists, and he is someone else.
i breathe harder, but my eyes are open,
and i am bitter. empty. liar, liar.

("just make him happy and it will all go away.")

.

.

.

sometimes i scare myself