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Suitcase in hand
at the door, I stand.
Reflected in glass,
my regrets of the past.

Teary eyed, I say goodbye,
he grabs a plate and lets it fly-
over my head, it hits the door.
Jagged pieces shower the floor.

Eyes glaring he stares,
spewing callous swears.
He bids me "turn around-
do it quickly, make no sound."

Steeling myself, I cast my fears
out the door, and wipe my tears.

The night is young (but so am I),
my life ahead, I need not cry.

Morning

Lips moist from the drool
that spread to her pillow
as she dreamt.
Eyes gleam
with a natural sunlight
that permeates the room
with shades still drawn.
Lips crinkle at the edges
as she smiles, embracing
each morning with a
courageous naivety.
Outside the window the snow falls
heavily; we must not leave.