Sound-sensitive

I am full of headaches.

Living with him is hearing
sighs echo when the door's closed;
clashing spoons while doing
the dishes; grunts and mutterings
when morning peeks through
the windows.

Living with him is hearing
my childhood fears and amnesia
gripping the creaky bedside,
trying to pull themselves
out of my mind, into
reality.

Sometimes I imagine fists
connecting with my face,
shoulders clashing
against the walls,

but then he offers me an orange
he peeled himself, and I'm reminded
that he's family after all.

21-01-2015
9:49 PM