Three Hundred and Thirty Seven Days
I've been dwelling. I wrote this on November 10th, 2005. Three Hundred and Thirty Seven Days I am picturing him. He's standing in the dawn light by the foot of my bd. His feet are shoulder width apart, his arms hang loosely by his side, and he has his eyes closed. He's crying, telling me that he's sorry. That I'm right and he's wrong. He's saying that he's broken and ruined, and that's why we need to be together- so I can teach him to love. So I can teach him to treat people right. I tell him we'll talk about it in the morning, and to go to sleep. I am picturing him. He's laying next to me in the bed and I keep telling him to stop touching me. He won't. I tell him to leave and he turns, he calls me a self righteous hypocrite, he calls me a liar, tells me that I'm cruel and that I'm hurting him on purpose. I'm tired, and I tell him to leave. HE begins to cry again. I tell him to let go and sleep. He attacks. I tell him