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.