Curfew

She asked about the grade while I was eating my flakes,

listing off a dozen of my biggest mistakes.

I didn't say a word, I just stood up and left,

feeling like a house that’s been hollowed by theft.

The garage is cold and it smells like a spill,

oil on the concrete and a deep, heavy chill.

I’m sitting on a box full of old holiday lights,

hiding from the kitchen and the regular fights.

My phone's at four percent but the screen is too bright.

I'll stay in the dark for the rest of the night.