The trouble with knowing

Written by: Violet Darling


I wonder what she's thinking   
whilst she pretends to watch T.V   
   
She's sat on that same spot     
on the same sofa for more years   
than I care to remember   
gradually not caring about   
the seven long hairs that grow     
from her chin or the stains     
all over her clothing from   
last weeks dinner   
   
She sips her cider   
   
I watch   
   
She sips   
   
I ask: "where is he?"   
   
"He's in bed." She answers,   
not removing her eyes from   
the commercials.   
"Pour me another, will you?   
and open the window"   
   
She is almost robotic.   
   
I can see past the piss stained   
mess that has become her   
well enough to know she   
is scared as hell.   
   
I open the window     
The breeze bounces past my cheeks   
  
"He can't open the windows   
anymore" she whispered- 
"He can't do anything"