she loves me
she loves me not
she loves me
she loves me not
did she ever love me
that's the question now isn't it.
was it ever true.
She had to have loved me.
or she at least loved being loved by me.
she put up with my shit
I know that much
and I have a lot of shit to put up with
my health, my bad attitude, my empty purse
but she put up with it.
I remember going to estate sales
sifting through dead peoples left overs
scooping up oddities while she scooped up clothes.
I stole an official American flag from a hispanic family once.
stuffing it inside a jacket I bought before.
we'd eat mexican food and talk about what we always had to talk about
I remember it as if it were the best days of my life.
though it were fleeting at the time.
an every day occurrence.
every day now standing perfectly still in my mind.
how precious this time spent.
how predicated and profitable.
it made it all worth while
those brief shining moments where something was right.
looking at junk.
the unrelenting sun burning her seat cushions.
we bought what we could afford. and then we filled up our home with it.
junk in every corner. never properly arranged.
just stored.
like my memories.
stacked to the ceiling.
never properly arranged.
just there sitting in an endless pile.
6 long years. watching women pass me by.
smarter women.
better looking.
popular women.
but she was the one.
and so i did.
for 6 long years.
I counted on her for everything.
pledging her my dying breath
she cried as she let go.
and watched helplessly as the wolves chewed away at my bones.
