We’re in your therapists office.
Kids toys on the carpet.
Subtle insult.

Our last fight enveloped us in a stand off
with no eyes to look into,
skin to touch or incentive to make up.

When I landed we learned
physical energy can be a magic wand.
‘Next time don’t take so long’.

We’re past that, in the aftermath.
You’re taking a portion of responsibility
you don’t need to carry.

Therapist puts a question to the room ‘’what can you two do to make each other feel heard?’
I take a deep breath. Last thing
I want to be is a regret. “I need to pull through
“Need to do better, I’m sorry” Therapist nods.
You say “I’m sorry”
and we both know
it’s a sorry for what will come.

On the way back a pothole lurches the cab,
blonde layers bounce out from your new bob.
I’ve been gone too long.