New linen on the bed and that catastrophic song on the radio made me remember.
To step out of the shower not to know if damn sleep will come even proximate.
Also, I washed the dishes (the machine did anyway).
Everything was done yet I carried a knife by the heart not to be undone easily.
Listening to that song my mind goes there, there precisely.
Phoning from the hospital. Her voice. Pulling the drip upstairs my mind by gone.
It is only I that transfer, I that know. Not even she knows.
It was only I that appreciated that murderous desire.