The Tightening Noose

the noose began
to tighten around my throat.
The confetti of
Infatuation still
Hanging in the air.
no television
she said.
it's bad for you. no music
either.
No al green. He's evil.
no books, no magazines.
no dinners out,
no friends over or to visit.
the house was full
of eggshells. shut doors,
and quiet.
deadly quiet.
no sex.
no intimacy. no nothing
that one would call
companionship.
each word that left her mouth
was a lie,
or a deceit.
some sort of fabrication
of her sick mind.
in bed by nine.
self help books piled
to the ceiling.
her phone cradled
obsessively in her hand.
curled in a tight
ball
as she'd fall asleep,
crying. Sobbing
it had become a living hell,
and still
I hung on, as if my life
depended on it.