She came over the other day even though her back was killing her. She had been in a car accident a few weeks back and it fucked her up.
At first she just curled up under the blankets, laying there. Then she was talking about her back problems, and she started talking about how she did miserably at her strength test for PT, then she buried her head in my chest and was ranting about how they won't accept liability and she panics whenever she's driving and she has nightmares and flashbacks to the accident how she hurts she's scared she's angry disappointed livid panicked.
And she cried.
She hates when she cries because her eyes turn red, and her face puffs up. She kept her face buried under her hair leaning against me, and I still held her while she wept.
When she finally stopped- when she finally came up for some air after my prodding- she still whined about her looking like a pufferfish; but she relaxed, she wasn't as worried, she felt better.
She felt safe.
YOU ARE READING
Ups and Downs, Lefts and Rights
PoetrySome of my old English, and maybe a touch of new. Meant for those who aren't afraid to walk again amongst their overgrown trails. Always a work in progress.
