Being Broke

When we married he promised his support.

But how could he know it would be so one-sided.

I may be there to cook a simple lunch,

to make the bed or do the laundry,

But who could have guessed that normalcy

would die when I turned thirty?

My attention turned inward by my own pain,

I fail to notice his

quiet determination to not trouble me

with his doubts or worries or regrets.

I push to make it through each day,

living not just surviving,

and I hope my chores add up to a fair effort,

Because I’m no good at balancing the books.

Yet, I’m the one who does it.

so I can hide from him how broke we are.

Money I mean,

Because somehow, our relationship isn’t.

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The Warmth

I feel the warmth of

the sun on my face

as it rises in the Spring –

It is Hope.

Like the green shoot of a daffodil

reaching through the snow –

That flower ain’t got no sense

It just knows it’s time.

Time for a change.

So I could curl up in the snow

and let the hypothermia take me,

Content in the illusory warmth

of my own delusion

Or I can throw off the confusion

that sets in when all else fails

and raise my eyes to the Sun.

Can’t I see it’s time.

Time for a change

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