*This poem contains references to suicidal ideation, emotional manipulation, religious hypocrisy, and psychological abuse within a domestic context. It may be distressing for readers who have experienced partner violence, suicide attempts, or spiritual abuse. Please proceed with care and prioritize your well-being.

April 3rd, 2024

The first warm day of the year.

Sunlight spilling on the grass.

The kids played outside

like they hadn’t heard us fighting.

10:45 a.m.

I brought them in for naps.

Read them a story about Jesus—

something you would’ve liked.

You were in crisis again.

Withdrawn.

Blaming.

Said your dreams were filled with him.

Said a loving husband

would understand why you missed

the man who broke our vows.

I told you to pray.

You said that wasn’t supportive.

I said I wasn’t responsible

for managing your pain

when it was built on betrayal.

You said you wanted to die

because I called you a fraud.

But I wasn’t trying to bury you—

just him.

11:00 a.m.

I came down the stairs.

You were gone.

Then I heard the car.

Running.

In the garage.

The doors were locked.

I pounded.

Yelled your name.

You sped out.

Almost hit me.

I called the cops.

Another hospital stay.

Another cycle.

You’ll say you’re fine.

You’ll say I overreacted.

And no one will call it what it is.

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