There are little rips in the fragile fabrics that wraps us
I saw it in his eyes this morning
There is fear from both of us it's the elephant in the room sitting huge and monstrous after that night
The night we both hit the bottle too hard and he turned into someone else
Flashes of the back Hallway the light and then the smoothness of the floor as it came up to me after his hands touched my shoulders shoving me backwards
There are little rips after that night, the names and pushing
How do we repair those? how do we heal?
How do I not become extra hard?
How can there be softness?
And love to hold us?
How do we step closer and closer, instead of away.