Hardly a day goes by that I don't think of
Mostly in anger, sometimes with hatred.
I loved you nearly half my life, and now
The bad has swallowed up the good, has eaten my heart.
How sad that I must bury so much of me!
I wish I could bury you.
The real, living you I don't want to hear about.
You were once what I lived for, and now
I don't even want to know when you are dead.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon