Historic Domestic
The first time I saw it, it was almost mystical, as I found myself entranced in a new world. A world where I could be the bold curator. Yet it took so long to realize I’d still struggle through your transformation of the undertaker, hunter of all light. And you swam deeper and deeper into a bottle of fire. The end of the line, every time. The smallest things became extremities poised saintly in your eyes. Indignation overwhelmed my spirit, while you spun around maliciously. Awry as my spirit warned, my eyes remained closed as I braved the depth of your fury.
The first time I felt it, I challenged it – and I remained pinned askew, by you and the darkness that replaced you. Obliged by the weight of my heart, I wrapped my arms around our lives and home, and I drained myself, pound by pound and bone by bone.
