Homeless Me.

My love…

One of these days I hope you realize

the life I lead is one I lead for you.

Left to my own devices,

I would drink until I needed sleep

and then sleep until I needed to drink.

Thoughts of you keep me awake

and sober and soberly awake.

I am me, no apologies needed.

I could easily be that homeless man

you give money and blankets to

on the corner by the interstate sign.

But for you, I am up early,

working until I can no longer stand

the very thought of working,

paying bills on time,

washing dishes and clothes

with utter abandonment,

my mind always hundreds of miles away

on my beloved southern state,

on my grandchildren and my daughter.

For you, I am kind and gentle

when kindness and gentleness

is never what I want to be.

I am tired and older than my age.

I am sore and in pain.

I am depressed and crying

but these are things that I am when I am alone.

For you, I am young and energetic

and in love and caring and sweet,

bringing hot coffee to our bed

to make my tongue warm and steamy

for your body’s wants and needs.
And I become me for you and only you.

Alone I am miserable and mean

and I sometimes scream at the walls

for no reason other than they are walls,

keeping me in, imprisoning me.

When all I long for is to be free.


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