Broken

I have often fantasized about his death. Nothing that I have caused. A careless truck driver. A fire.
Then a knock at the door and sympathetic eyes. A secret small silent sigh of relief. And release.

Freedom.

Don't misunderstand. The violence that is, is generally directed at inanimate objects and walls.  But don't underestimate the toll it takes on you after years of watching harmless objects, possessions, sometimes treasures, fly around the room becoming victims of a rage
and
representing the shrapnel of a broken relationship.
Broken heart.

Maybe a broken mind.