Five years old as
nights turn into days with
the sunrise to separate the difference.
Alarm goes off of parents
violently screaming at each other.

My eyes are half open
I stumble into the kitchen,
as there was no sight of me,
My footsteps like a shadow that creeped with
no noise.

Cabinets smash as my body slides
slowly off the counter.
Eye’s glance slowly at me
but arguing continues
as my ears take in
the vivid violent words.

I pull and pull
on my mother's blue
worn out denim like jeans.
A gentle touch of her hand
brushes down my back as
she nudges me away.
Because she didn’t want me to hear
but she continued.

I stare up to
the deep valley wrinkles across
her forehead.

As tears drip fear
of anger.
She does not back down.
She won’t back down.

Layer after layer
the blur in my eyes thickens.
I stand in the arch of the doorway
that separates the kitchen
from the hallway.
Just like mother and father walking
away from the distance
that stands between them.