What were you thinking when you met me?
That I was a sad, misunderstood guy
who bicycled a lot and loved the outdoors?
I know you weren’t thinking 911 calls in the
middle of the night, flashing lights and handcuffs.
Vomit on the deck, vomit of a life onto the carpet.
Beer cans by the thousands scattered through your life
gathering, growing slowly at first, then quickly drifting over you,
your caring, your love, your sanity.
You gave to someone who didn’t fucking care about a thing.
He slept with dogs on dirty sheets, night after night,
tearing your soul apart, shredding your love
with broken beer bottles and hateful words.
Stale beer smells like death in situations such as these.
Were you prepared for that?
______________________________________________________
02/20/06
Sean Woods
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-lesa/
