Crowded in the tiny box that is our kitchen.
I feel a dreaded heat that I can not calm.
Verbal threats that make the air unbreathable.
Smothering me beneath that of a clammy palm.

I've witnessed and felt this despair before.
The knotting of my stomach reminds me of this.
A part of my life I have long since forgotten.
The suppressed memories insist to reminisce.

Bolting for the stairs to escape the storm.
To hide locked in my room as I had long ago.
It's too late to stop the flood of memories.
Even higher ground will not escape the flow.

I bar the door to the world outside my haven.
Ingulfed in music to drown the verbal feud.
Grasp at a notepad to scribble at tearfully.
Poetically writing away the past, however crude.