There’s a reason for why she loves him.
She can’t quite understand the grasp of this love
But it’s there, it must be.

How else can she live moment for moment?
Brush past the bad memories, hope for those
That inspire happiness in her heart?

She must love him
And he must love her.
He continually asks her
To brush her hair, wash her face,
Wear clothes that make her look good.
He just wants her to look good
So he must care about her.

Why shouldn’t he love her?
She washes his clothes, feeds his kids,
Takes care of his house and him and everything else
That a mother and wife must, and
Beyond even that.

So what if he doesn’t always show it?
He may come home late, smell of wine and other women,
Yell for his shoes to be taken off when he can barely walk.
Even the phone calls late at night
And the hang-ups
That leave cold numbness inside her soul
Don’t mean a thing when it comes to love.

So, why tonight?
Why did he have to tell her tonight
That he was leaving;
That he had another woman hanging on the side
With dye in her hair and paint on her face
And a smirk like this memory is one worth remembering.
He has to love her though.
She raised his kids, loved him best
When no one else could see the potential within him.
She loved him like no other woman would ever think of loving
And she gave up everything that made her her
For him.
So that should count for something
In this moment when that love is about to die.

Right?

11/23/2008