I book an appointment at the psychiatrist.
“An appointment for two.”
“You, and ?” the receptionist asks.
“Anxiety” I whisper. “Couples therapy.”
I try to fall asleep on a twin bed intertwined with cold sheets
But I cannot because the other half of my bed
Won’t stop murmuring.
He pulls me into his sheets,
By the wrists of my hands-
Afraid I may leave him for the daylight.
He says something about cheating-
About the satisfaction of enjoying anothers’ presence-
I hold myself captive near the lampshade and try to explain myself.
I tell him I have never truly slept in my bed
But he grits his teeth and slams the drawer open by the lampshade
I see his fists clench as he takes the Xanax away from me
He says Xanax takes me to bed, gets me to breakfast
It seems like a healthy relationship
The both of us-
We’ve been on and off since high school
But he’s stuck around; for the past two years
That is a healthy relationship, right?
I’m not sure anymore
It is the longest relationship I’ve ever had.