it's been a month
since he packed his bags
and crawled away from me
like a coward.
I know I am wild
drink too much
fight too much
with a penchant for
wine and ****.
He went straight
to her soft breast
and perky hairdo.
her June cleaver pearls.
I hate him.
he owes me my battle of fire.
the blood stains of a final fight.
the war to end all wars.
instead he absolves his sins
by confessing to me like a priest.