Should writers live alone?
I asked, when we had the conversation
for the 102nd time about my fierce
independence, his continual hurt feelings
and boy grabbing onto mommy's skirt occasions.
I am daydreaming more and more often now
wishing to god that I still had my own place
and did not have to share my rooms, inward and outward.
Could he just stop talking?
Instead of cream, I'd like some silence with my coffee.
Doesn't he have anything better to do
besides watching me try to read this book?
God, I can be a ******* Einstein:
"I will send for you when I want you"
I hate this in me when I see his eyes flinching
but some days, I fight for it
the war of the independent introvert
not so docile, a loner, as one might suppose.