We look away

The earliest of morns,
sun shines in our eyes, so we look away,
look away.
She speaks to me in whispers,
whilst I search for a means to leave,
the smell of herbs as she grinds,
a smell once good, homely, now
spoilt by experience.
The door has us shut in,
though is nothing but a ghostly shield,
it will not hold, and we both know,
her back – rigid
my hand – shaking.
Morning has us broken,
exhausted,
desperate.
I listen as she whispers plans
nothing good will come from –
but what options are we left with?
She grinds the herbs
with practiced motions,
tight emotions,
as the rising sun
shines in our eyes and we look away,
look away.