All

The terrible, angry

grip of her voice,

berating me,

belittling me,

infuriating me

without provocation,

without justification.

Her against me.

I should go.

I should leave.

I should flee.

I should run.

All the shoulds

add up

to little.

One approving glance,

one kind word,

one soft caress,

one gentle kiss,

is all for which

I live.