She Calls Me

 

and tells me to come home. my sons miss me,
my friends miss me, she misses me. i sit on the
couch in the place that is mine and i cry because
everything is wrong, has been wrong for months
and months and months now. i cry because i
always make the wrong choices, the wrong
decisions. i cry while i drive, saying "i want to
go home, i'm lonely, i'm empty, i'm tired of being
strong."

i can't be strong all the time. i can't be. it's tiring.
it drains me and then the thoughts that are never
far from the surface take over and bad things look
good, bad choices look like the answers i've been
struggling with for so long.

so i spend the rest of the days in a "blue funk,"
which is just depression with a musical name.
i watch glenn curse at the computer and i hate
him. i hate it here. i hate it there. i want to run
away, but there is no place to run anymore.

some have offered me money and i've turned it down.
if they were to offer again, i'd take it. i'm desperate.
i want to go home and see my boys, hold them tightly
in my arms and drive down roads that end in places
i remember, that i know. gaze into the faces of my
friends who have never stopped loving me, have only
watched in puzzlement as i ran away from them.

i want to go home now and i don't care how i get there.

denise

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