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She Called Me An Idiot Again
She called me an idiot again,
which is a step down -
admittedly,
from telling me she wished a bullet would pass through me,
or that I'd be run over
on the side of the road.
Last week
my therapist told me
that I've no idea what a healthy relationship
would even look like.
Robin Williams did it the right way.
Not to say he should have,
but the people who are going to
aren't going to let people know,
they're not going to linger at the side of the bridge
waiting for someone to stop them.
My old friend Delirium Tremens and I
will have one of our epic conversations this evening;
of this I can say I have been looking forward all week.
I forgot rhyme and rhythm and meter.
Excuse me.
There's a lot,
actually,
that I've forgotten.
Not more than you, necessarily,
dear reader,
but a lot.
And if this particular poem feels incomplete,
well,
maybe I intended it that way.
I love that woman
but she hurts me so much,
and in the most intentional ways.
Can I become an alcoholic in my forties?
I swear she's driving me that way.
So what do I do?
Do I leave,
knowing she'd never make it?
Oh, she'd survive,
of that I have no doubt,
but she'd fall
as flat as her mother.
And I can't let that happen.
Comments
Geezer
Sun, 2017-12-03 10:18
Great narrative...
Wonder what happens next?
~ Gee.
.
There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.
Conect11
Sun, 2018-07-08 23:53
She leaves
and blames me for all of her problems.