Killing Butterflies

Killing Butterflies</u>

Vile like the Bland purple of the
Once again desolate night sky
He stumbles and braces against
The white of our hallway walls
_{Fingerprints
That I’ll have to clean up}
He stares as I wait for the water
To finish pouring down
His numb drunk throat
“What”
“I need to get in there”
“Uh?”
He falls against the counter
Cologne so strong I can barley smell
Eyes squinted in a half attempt
Of minute conscious
To hide there distortion and dilation

Another morning filled with screams
And another Butterfly in my stomach dies
This fear and anticipations
Lessens with every blow
That I am so used to taking

Retreat to helm
Theses stenches set a place
For excuses I don’t need to make anymore
_{Because
No-one notices}
From the un-comfort of my un-used mattress
I sit and listen for a rattle
Stay first I hear the plastic cold
Retreat from the floor and off his shoe
Then with an ignorant moan
Its return is attempted again
And replaced in its frigid home
A bang as his thigh, hits the stoves corner
Then that rattle, the keys are redrawn
“shit” under my breath with false hopes of his demise
And more of his sober return
The door slams rudely

The sounds in my head
_{A natural defense
By now}
To overplay the beep of an expeditions alarm
How clear I can’t forget
The shirtless buffoon, passing through
Our white painted hallway
To his sleeping wife
And then retreating back
To his Keeping girlfriend