The moonlight sank into the ripples of blankets that covered our bed.

It was 2 a.m.

I smelled the fresh paint from the bookcase, heard the dogs bark from a distance, waited until the sound of Spring lulled me back to into a dream.

There was something distinctly unnerving about falling asleep.

Like the arguments we were accustomed to having in the streets. The ones in which, inevitably, I would find myself lying across the hood of your sports-car or hanging from a window as you tried to drop me to pavement with a jerk of steering wheel.

We were standing on the train tracks once, well past midnight, dead of winter…..sound of trains approaching, car high-centered, drunk….Our breath bursting against the new year between curse words and screams. The yellow fingernail moon catching on the whites of your eyes and flickering……It was always that way.

Unnerving.

Your voice quivered as I walked away.

And the sound of trains

Faded.