I remember the morning when…

He was sitting on the bottom stair…outside in the sun…with a pound of beer and tequila in his belly and not knowing how much blow went up his nose, the night before, or the morning…crying…wanting to be saved, wanting me to forgive him for all he had done. He begged for my forgiveness. How bad he had treated me. I believed him. I wanted to. I still want too.

You see…I just don’t understand…..

I had my own things to talk about tonight...but sometimes my mind goes to him.

And other people don’t understand.