Curled under the covers, I wait.

Light leaks under the door, pooling into the room like a beacon of betrayal. Dividing us.

I hear the hum of your escape. You take pleasure in everything but me.

Another night I wait, sleepless and anxious.

My curiosity will sprout paranoia, fueled by a memory of treachery. It is enough to make my eyes

pierce the door, longing for the walls between us to give way.

Each scuff, each scrape, every soundless movement you make bleeds under the door,

making me toss and tangle. It is too much.

My feet scramble free of my nest and carry me to the door. Head throbbing, mind racing.

My throat burns and I make my way through your sanctuary, determined to drink down the lies,

ignoring the truth which colors your face as you comprehend my approach.

Soon, you say. You will join me soon.

Closing the door behind me, I curl back under the now cold covers. I wait.

There is no sanctuary. You take pleasure in everything but me.

-- Deanna M. Jessup