Neither of us wanted to untangle
Untangling would mean looking at each other
Untangling would mean forcing meaning into a cavity of worthlessness
Untangling would mean reacting humanely
Untangling would be too much work for him.
Untangling would mean running the many-times rehearsed script
Untangling would mean I was just like all the others
Broken and hungry for answers.
So we stayed.
Tangled.
My heartbeat wild in comparison to his perservant one.
My breath harder to catch, untypical of the situation
My tears slowly rolling down, deciding reluctantly not to roll onto his shoulder
They instead opted to be discreetly wiped away with my hand
His shoulder would mean recognition, affirmation, humiliation
A desire for answers that were not coming.
I try to untangle.
He doesn’t let me.
He times it cleverly.
He lays me down
When the memory has been engraved
When the storm has passed
When it was safe.
