• My shoes are silent on the floor and I ask myself
    Do I want this anymore?
    Do I want to sit here while he guilts me into submission?
    Why am I always in the bad guy position?
    Do I want to feel like I did something wrong?
    No.
    Do I love him?
    I can't answer that.
    While I sit in the shawdows he gets a pat.
    Even now, the day of my birth, holds no candle to his naive football god.
    Even now his apology is and only will be a whisper in my dreams
    And now everyone sees