You called me, angry.
Someone needed to bear your rage; I was closest to you in both space and time.
I was quiet, my lips burning, as you words scraped across my face.
Away you went.
I stared at the wall, seing nothingness.
Each second before you called was a deeper slide into the abysss.
Areyougone?Whathashappened?DidIdosomethingwaitwaitWAITWAIT!!!
You called back, to say you were sorry.
Urgently, you apologized and repeated your dismay at your reaction. I forgive you.
You have not yet discovered I am not strong enough to bear your rage. I do not know how to take it.
As I go to my bed tonight, I am accompanied by the fear that I will show you such a thing.
You won’t understand it at all.
