She seemed clean for a hitchhiker. Sometimes the abuse was easy to see, with her you had to look hard. It was there, in the way she paused just before speaking. As if, balancing up high, and a deep breath, in or out, mattered.
Tyrone loved the taste of her mouth When she'd been drinking. She hated the taste of their mouths In the morning. Tyrone should have beat her Like her father did. She would have forgiven him Like his mother did.
Tyrone had tigers In his tummy, Gremlins in his head And icecicles between His toes. She knew that being submissive Allowed her to be petulant. Tyrone courted these monsters. Pride was her bump In the night.