Twenty years

You were standing near some freezer items.
Our eyes locked and it was like the entire store disappeared.
It was just me and you.
In that one second, two years flew by before my eyes.

I-83, your hands on my head.
Johnny's house, the couch.
Your grandparents house, the recliner.

It was twenty years ago, but I could still smell your cologne.

It felt like I ran to the check-out aisle.  My hear raced and my skin prickled.  I became aware of everyone, yet no one.  I kept looking for you.

I was grateful for the older couple who got in line behind me.  That meant you couldn't stand there.

I realized then that you were with your wife.
Does she know?

Does she know how your fists feel?
Does she know what it's like to have your hands on her neck?
Do you hold her down too?
I just hope she has more than a recliner to stare at.