Pariah of the Hallway.

Pariah of the Hallway

by james bezerra

Never knew

there was

any such

emotion:

equal parts anger

sadness

frustration

disappointment

and desperation,

with just a sprig of betrayal garnish,

before I met you.

You could mix that

like those bartenders

at that fancy place downtown

where they make everything

with whiskies I’ve never heard of

and light orange rinds on fire

just to bring out the flavor.

In a single weekend

once

we had the sweetest night

soaking together

in that tub deep like a well,

so soft and pliable

to one another’s fingertips,

lips.

Then, twenty hours later

your screams

and me slumped into the bottom corner of a closet,

like laundry,

hiding and sobbing all at once.

Somehow,

back then,

I thought it was a good thing

we had that extra bedroom

where I slept

when we fought.

How much time did I stand in that doorway,

haunting that hallway

studying the knob

of our bedroom door?

No one

has ever made me feel

that violently.

I don’t know

how to feel about that.

.

.

.