1st If you were three years old I'd say, "You were a very good Girl." But we are in our twenties and have long left the idle toys that made us good or bad. After, you dress before me and walk to the bathroom: to shit, to shower. You attacked me, as the colors of the room turned gray with the purpling sky, but now I lie naked, sticky in my own juices, watching the rusty fan beat out the movements of your watch. 2nd I run to the bathroom sink, like a wildebeest to a river, to groom where you bit me. Comb out the tufts of blood and hair you left behind. I debate shaving the area to make it suitable for sutures, but am afraid to reopen my cowardice.