Mix booze
With a narcisist
And you have
A rough cocktail
To swallow.
There’s many times
That I look back
And I wished I’d never
Saved her life.
It’s true.
Near the end
When I did
Sleep with her
She snored terribly
And smelled
Even worse.
There was actually
A division line
Through the bedroom.
Our bedroom.
It went right down the center
Of the bed.
Her side
Was a disaster
Stacked with papers
And stale clothes.
My side
Was neat and tidy
Vacuumed twice a week.
I had to live
Separately from her throes.
So much anger
And fighting.
About WHAT?
It was the booze
And narcissism.
Talking
And arguing
And fighting
Physically.
I can remember
Being at work
Waiting for the phone calls
From my children
On a daily basis.
That their mom was fucked up.
Too fucked up
To take care of them.
Too fucked up
To make them dinner.
That they were scared.
I stopped all of that.
I put an end to it.
There’s times.
Many.
When I wish that
I didn’t come home.
Home
To find her
Whining like an injured animal
Dying.
The phone calls
Would’ve stopped.
I wouldn’t have had
To take my kids
To see their mom
In some flea-bag motel
On the side of Route 202
To see their mom
In the midst of years
Of trying to get her shit together.
But me...
I’m doing alright.
I’m in the state of NJ.
We
Have archaic alimony laws
In which
I pay her money.
Just saying...
I wish
I never came home
That day
To get my son’s lunch.
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