Wrongs

He never hit me.

But sometimes it felt like it.

When you see someone punch a bed because of something you said

or smash a windshield because of a fight

you feel like you are to blame.

 

You can't forget the way the room feels in that moment.

Or the way the muted T.V. sheds unsaturated color onto the walls of the cluttered room.

Or the self pitying sadness you feel when you see a grown man crying and hitting the floor with a clenched fist.

 

All you want in that moment is to comfort him.

So you admit your wrongs

You take the blame.

 

And you cry when he's asleep

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