holding hands across
the cracked Formica
eyeing cracks in paint
he's thinking
I like her, no, I love her
she'll never be my regret
She's hurting and nervous
but she can't forget
how it is to beg
She licks her lips, tasting his hatred
sitting in front of Lasange and
wilted salad, Its not Steak
she whispers in a pathetically
apologetic voice
and he swallows his instinct
to roar his pain, in a calm voice
he states I'm useless to you,
to me and the baby, I've gotta go,
I'll be home maybe, maybe when
I've lived up to my promises
of giving you another life...
She waits on the stairs
for him to come home
*She IS his wife