Release

A Woman's Thoughts

Before you get all worried, this is not a poem about me. It's about a man, and the woman that still worries about him.

~~~~~

Eyes burning

a man yearning

for hope, for fear

another beer

another drag

(not just of a cigarette)

another day

another dollar

bloodshot eyes

and he tells her lies

tells her he's okay

even though she hasn't asked for a while

she doesn't ask out of fear

out of fear that the man she once called dear

will lie

and she'll die

a little on the inside again

but then again, she usually does

because he's killing himself

a little at a time

it kills her to see him try

every bit of smoke, suffocation

every drink into damnnation

and she thinks these thoughts in private

never aloud

because no one wants to hear them

and she doesn't want to say them

but fuck, she needs to say those words

because they get bottled up inside

and there's nowhere in her mind, where they can hide

every time she speaks to him, she keeps talk small

never anything about what they used to be

never anything about what she sees

she doesn't tell him that she's hurting too

because what's the use?

It's over and done

there's nothing she can do now

he wouldn't want to hear

her pathetic cries

her annoying voice saying

"don't do this to me"

"don't do this to yourself, please"

I'm begging please

(and you know I don't beg)

life just goes faster than you know

and they just wanted to take things slow

but death is said to be easier when it's faster

but instead he dies slow

in a bar, the lights low

she begs him not to leave

not to lie down again

in that throne built for two

but only one will use

and she wonders

different things

like if he's happy

or if he's okay today

or if that girl made him feel something last night

who's he fucking tonight?