the middle of a couch
seems miles from each end
when only one body
depresses its softness
* * *
Remember how you left her
on the floor,
dead,
blood on your face,
already seeking revenge?
No one come to greet
the killer in me.
What would they say,
Hi, thanks for not being evil?
My sin is deep
and no one wants me,
despite attempts
to reconcile.
Give me to the enemy
to satisfy my debts.
Let him draw the map
of death upon my belly.
Melodramatic much?
Get over yourself.
You’re hurt, not alone.
Friends have forgiving hearts.
Friends don’t leave.
They’re here, just behind the curtain.
If healing is possible, you’ll do it together.