i couldn't bear the sight of her;
i hated coming home to my laundry
neatly folded and fresh-smelling;
my lunch for tomorrow already
made and packed;
the favors i was silently
expected to repay

i would walk through the door
exhausted, defeated
and she'd run to me
her slender arms tight around my waist
as i struggled for a
breath

i can't bear the confinement
i am sick of the amusement park
that is my life
everything handled, safe, managed
a clean and sparkly prison

when i want to leave, her eyes
scream the most volatile sadness
and she begs and asks what she
didn't do

the poor girl has simply
done too much

10/28/2009

Author's Note: [not my own voice, of course]

Posted on 01/14/2010
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