One Night turns to six, six turns to thirty, thirty turns to ninety

a sleepover turns into three months in a basement.

A look in the mirror you see your clothes shrink.

will you leave, how long are you to stay/

A bed meant for one can fit three if needed.

Tears from the first night turn into a daily routine,

entertained by Jokes your brother forces to keep from crying.

you sleep below an abusive relationship.

A new religion is formed in your brain.

God says this is okay, I will be fine

God says this is normal everyone is doing this

God, is this Night almost over?

the Night ends

a bed meant for two can fit one.

your version of god vanishes

you fear that you’ll have to go back.

you don’t go back:

to your religion

to that basement

to that Night.