She passed today.
Guess it’s my fault—
I shouldn’t have let her
love that man.
He was an alcoholic.
She was an active Christian
He didn’t work.
She worked at the
boys and girls club
and paid for everything.
He had a high school diploma.
She was a Ph. D candidate.
I tried to tell her,
but she was addicted to his touch
his caresses, his words.
He was always
right and most important.
He was even right when
he backhanded her
over a misunderstanding.
I broke his jaw,
she nursed him and
scolded me.
But one day, he hit her just right,
and she moved in with me.
She told me all her
regrets and failures
and a long list of
woulda, shoulda, coulda’s.
Then she came to the realization,
that he’ll change
and she, as a woman,
needed to be patient with his anger.
Even though I proved to her
she was better then him,
better than me.
She left my house,
back to his,
and he had
another misunderstanding—
her last.
I shoulda stopped her,
I coulda saved her life,
I woulda…
God, I don’t know what I
woulda done.
What the hell should I have done?
Authors bio is coming up shortly.
