When you ache and itch.
When the throb becomes pain.
Twisting and turning.
Trying to find the spot where it doesn’t hurt.
Holding your breath. Pressing the desperate places.
Remembering the moments when you didn’t drip with angry need.
Going backwards isn’t an option.
Going forward with the ache deep in your soul.
Wondering if you could dig a knife in far enough to carve out the dark spots.
Zipping up your jeans two sizes too small. Pulling on your shoes.
The front door shuts behind you. You can’t feel your feet and the knife sits in your brain, twirling.