Lights off,
Door closed,
She leaves again.
I see the men she goes off with every night—
Never the same, never familiar.
And I'm left here,
Alone.
Always alone.
The silence.
That heavy,
dreaded
silence
Descends when she leaves,
The click of the lock,
The turn of the key,
Pushes her further away.
I want to scream for her,
Into the dark, unforgiving street,
But she won't come back.
Not for me, not for anyone.
She returns
When she must.
But she doesn't speak,
Not to me.
Her hair tangled, frizzy,
Clothes torn,
Sick on the carpet,
Tears fall,
One,
By,
One.
I hear them hit the floor.
I want to comfort her,
To let her know I'm here,
But she doesn't care.
Not about me.
Sometimes I wonder if she remembers me,
If she even knows I exist,
But I'm here!
I'm always here.
I never leave.
I can't.
I won't.
Because if I leave,
She'll be all alone,
Even with those men,
Those countless, nameless men.
They can't get enough of her.
Do they even know her name?
Do they know
She has a daughter?
A family,
A life beyond those nights?
Probably not.
They don't care.
But I do.
I'll always care.
