Easy to say,
that I was just young.

It was back in the day,
but,
back-in-the-days
make it back to us
always.

I had a problem
with cheating,
couldn't meet you at your point of need,
had to take a breath
especially
when
we
were
fighting.

had to step out the house,
with a half-bottle in my hand
had to take a breath,
had to give it a second
to sink in,
what you'd said about me,
how i'd grown worse,
gotten the worst of you,
and you,
the worst of me.


Fighting going on,
in the house we called home,
so far from,
though,
more like a prison
we called our own.

Spent nights sipping
a bottle
at the dinner table,
no blessings made,
no prayers said,
no good graces,
just bitterness over spaghetti
and that white girl
you thought i'd laid.

We Sitting down
to take a sec with the Triple-Sec,
you said to me,
"can't believe you ******
that white *****"

"Baby, i'm flawed,
just like anybody else"
couldn't say with the last breath
of the dying relationship,
that this conversation
signaled death.

Couldn't say,
that white ***** was much more than that
to me.

That a year's worth of lying
and go-betweens
was the last gush of fresh air
to an evergreen
whose air
no longer made its leaves turn green.

We'd left that precious place
a long time ago.
Adam and Eve ******* the juices
out of a rotten apple.

My Adam's apple stuck in my throat,
my belly filled
with an emptiness
that made it bloat.

Said, I was sorry so many times,
it burned my tongue
to say it before bed,
every night.

Still laid you down,
but the *** was getting so lifeless,
I looked into your eyes,
you looked into mine,
the anger was so tireless.

So much hate,
spread in a two-bedroom
townhouse,
a playhouse in the backyard,
where your kids played,
and we fought inside,
while the sun cast shade.

Fighting about the dishes,
how the bills were never paid,
the lights turned off,
we slept in the dark for days.

In the mornings you'd go to work
before i awoke,
so easy to go
it was easy to say,
easier to go,
than easier to say,
that it was done
we were just hanging on
because we had so much going on,
taking up the responsibilities
of a full family and home
when really
we were cradling a dead child,
the newest baby between
you and I.

Still don't know
how you faced it,
so gracious,
with my ungratefulness.


Couldn't face ourselves
to face ourselves,
couldn't say well enough
that we were left to hell.

****,
you pulled a gun.

Remember that day
in the Thursday sun?

Right after work,
caught me pulling a chick
on facebook,
and somehow it came to you to reach under
the sofa, that's all it took.

Grab the piece,
and shake it against my temple,
saying,
"can't believe i fell in love with a *****
so simple, simple, simple."

And me,
through gitted teeth,
"Baby, put the gun down,
you gone crazy?"

Baby,
i don't know where you're at now,
know you got **** going on,
i'm going on,
you going on,
got a lotta **** going on,
'cause we held on
way too long.

Baby,
I've grown.
I Know my past
made me better
and
yes, you were the last,
but yes,
you were the last,
the last time that i had to cast the dice
and throw it in with the worst of me,
way back then,
not too far back,
cause every now and then
i go back
to way-back-then
wishing i'd been a better man.

Wishing that baby had made it.

Wishing your kids still knew my name.

Wishing i'd pulled less *******.

Wishing i'd pulled less of my ******* game.

Younger back then,
no longer still the same,
but every now-and-then
the back-in-the-days
come back with their hapless passion,
make me think of my old ways,
how you pulled a gun,
how we fought through the night
just for fun
until the kids cried quietly
their tears lit by nightlight,
and we still loudly fighting.

Finally
letting out our anger
cause we couldn't do it during the day
the only way:
drinking at night,
burying the days
just to burn the stars,
moon
and violet sky.