eighteen months

theres eighteen months
that i wait and then you come home
right ill be here its a date
ill write letters
and provided i can afford it
phone calls and visits
this is a sentence for two
it isnt just you its me
its us its torturous
i suppose to someone whos already
done time or did a crime
this year lost is nothing
but what about the woman
the one who sits it out
just to get trashed mouthed
just to be dissapointed
just to be the fool
the featherwood thats loyal and good
that waits chastely alone and cold
who answers each question
who does what shes told
then he gets released
and he seeks trash to heap
wants with all his heart to find deciet
all these questions sentenced to life
without answers and tears wont come
and dumb faced and numb she rocks
back and forth trying to smile
and not break down at trial
she prepares for the inevitable
knowing all the while
shed gladly walk a long thousand miles just
to be with him for five minutes
while hes clean and honest with himself
all the pain of two years struggling
juggling lies drugs and another lover
games played beds made now sleep in it
eighteen months its not so long