Symptoms

By Danielle Bennett

She is alone and stirring

I lock myself away

Just like her

I know better than to let it boil

But I’m always getting burned

Trying to suffocate dangerous flames

She is trying to make phone calls without a phone

Asks me to help her dial the number

I say you can’t call them with this

Sick at heart

She cries and says it’s time

She is slurring

demanding I keep promises

Thinks the unconscious are listening

She is a private person

I tell her that the slurring is only a symptom

I worry that the lies aren’t

The attempt was only a symptom

Of a few wires never sparked

We make the call together

She omits the truth to the operator

The attempt did not exist

Her esophagus is not burned

Her mirrors have not been smashed

The cans weren’t ever hidden

When guilt seeps out from under the bed frame

She knows I will be there to soak up the mess

I’ll keep the promises

I won’t let them know she called