Not One For Confrontation
The nightmare wrestles me all night long. Devils smash me around.
I wake up screaming, but it is a silent scream. No noise happens.
I know he is not my forever man, but he is what I have, so I pretend.
My sister calls me the next day to tell me to confront him.
She confronts her men; that is why she does not have one now.
She has confronted a whole bunch of them. A showdown she says.
She likes this level of stress. I am not one for confrontation.
I go to sleep the next night, optimistic the nightmares are gone.
This nightmare is worse than the last one. I see him with other women.
Women I know. Women I trusted. I am hurt, shocked, crying now.
A devil is chasing me demanding we have a showdown.
I am terrified, and I start screaming, wailing, keening.
My prince charming wakes me up, cradling me.
I am glad to see his warm hazel eyes. He is my man.
Right now, this second. And it is enough. He asks what is wrong
I say nothing, not ready yet to release hand give up on my dream
Of forever after.
We both know he smells like another woman’s cologne, but
the masks are on. No showdown tonight.
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