recollection of our fights

(context of the poem - written during Creative Writing class where the task was to pick a “spot” from where to look at a set of images/scenes/people drawn from memory, as unfolding dynamically in the present. Rewritten during inklings.)

on my third cup of tea,
almost halfway through
the steaming cup i
slip,

spilling 
a little hot tea
hot flashes of memory
burn over a burn
shoving my hand under the same tap

from our 1st fight.
you are high and laughing
your descent into madness,
i am drunk as fuck;
we broke the vase as
the tables turned. 

the tap now turned off
i lean against the cracked window
feel a hand like mine
crack it some more
in memory of our 2nd fight. 
i push or you pull

a little hazy,
but the glass of the window 
cracked with clarity 
sharp shards made shapes
we both now share.
we are falling, i am at least 

from the landing of the
six flights of stairs i took
to just say Hi to Maddey
who had fallen ill that past week
but she isn’t really ill or
she is just really enjoying your company 
that day and three days hence. 
Hi reminds me of our 

37th fight. my fourth cup of tea
for the day, poured down the drain 
brought a frown on anna’s face
the anna who i said Hi to
before buying cigarettes everyday.

(my addictions having jumped 
from nail biting to cigarettes 
to you and now to tea.)

the 38th fight was last night
last night being the night that has been
on the loop for quite a while now
(around forty-three days, i safely assume.)