do you remember when you got me flowers and cigarettes? the carpet is dirty and stained, and there are no clean dishes. it's such a joke, you were making a joke, but i think of bruises and wanting to be thin and finding little burnt circles on my underwear. there was that night, when i knew i wouldn't leave, that you took my hand, roughly, and told me to calm down, lightly, with a smile on your face that cracked with unkindness. i think of wrestling with you, inanely at first, but i'm pinned down with bluing thighs and fingers going numb. it's been a long time since your fucking jokes, but still, i smoke cigarettes and toss the flowers.