On having a partner with PTSD.
The first night we slept together
And she fell asleep in my arms for the first time,
The honeymoon bliss was broken
By the sound of her lungs silently screaming
Until she couldn’t take any more breaths
And sobbed in my arms until morning.
When she moved in with me
And my bed became our bed,
The freshly washed sheet that we used to christen our new start
Was ripped and torn by her fists at 2am
When she clawed at her skin like a kitten locked in a cage.
And medication came and went
As I forced pills into her hand each morning with the hope of a ghost-less night,
And the flashbacks became less
So much so that I can barely remember the words she would call out
As I tried to shake her awake in desperation.
But all it means is that it’s more of a surprise
When we are both woken up in the dark
By the past knocking on the bedroom door.