i'm too scared
to accept that i might be wrong,
because who knows?
maybe i have been right all along
by seeing in you something
greater
than what anyone else will attribute.
i wish answers were available right now,
and that you and i
could just walk off into the future,
step by step and hand in hand.

in nine, ten months, we will have the same
brutal fight as last time;
and every five, six weeks, there will be the same
tiny mushroom cloud, and i will walk away hurt.

some mornings on the highway,
on my way to work on the wide anonymous roads,
i imagine what could be us:
i could trust you so fully my heart breaks,
i could love you so well the beat of my heart might explode.
we could have a beautiful home,
a beautiful well-ordered socialized existence,
with college degrees and plants on windowsills.
we could have children,
sweet little brown babies who tap on my belly
and giggle on your lap.

instead i wait for the next moment
when you will set my teeth on edge,
when my gums will rot out of my skull to escape
the nasty words that fill up my mind
and wait to gush out of my mouth.
in some ways,
i am lucky that you silence me
with how quick you are to stumble.

your anger is a bubble and i
am always waiting for it to burst.