Conditional.

I never know how to act when
the walls don’t shake,
when fingers don’t tremble
and the night wants to genuinely
help me fall asleep,
not sabotage brainwaves.

I’m not used to this
calm.

My shoulders were always
tense, legs ready to sprint,
fingers itching to dial 911.

But I never did.

Even when he almost broke
my sister’s nose, even when
his fist broke through the wall,
even when the yelling sent
our dogs into hiding.

And yes, he’s grown though
I’m not ready to say the word
“changed” because there
will always be a skeptic
planting seeds in my mind.

Love was never supposed
to have these barriers;
how can love flourish in
a heart that holds a desert.