You Always Run

You always run when things get hard.

I said it. I meant it. I saw it land.

Your face went still. You turned away unmarred

by denial. You understood what I'd planned.

I'd been keeping score. I had proof.

All the times you'd left before

things got complicated. The truth was roof

and walls, and I locked you to the floor

with words. I was right. God, I was right.

You were guilty as charged.

But rightness is a cold light,

and I watched you leave, enlarged

with anger. I sat alone

feeling victorious and small.

The next night at dinner, your chair was gone.

The empty space said it all.

I won. But winning meant losing

the person across the table.

Winning meant choosing

my rightness over what was stable.

The words I spoke stay with me.

You always run when things get hard.

Maybe I did too, with my cruelty,

running toward you with no guard.