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.
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