I will never forget the time you pushed me around at the store, five blows to the chest.
But you will.
I can recall overwhelming panic when you nearly tipped my car, four trembling passengers.
But you can’t remember.
I could recite each white flag I raised to appease you, three pathetic times.
But you would never see it that way.
I recount trembling apprehension to whatever version I might encounter that day, two anxiety pills.
But you were blind to your ways.
I relive the turmoil every now and then, one heart glued back together.
But you live on in peace.
