The 6th Floor

Today I saw you again
in the hall ways of that
place where we once got married.
The 6th floor.
Now the place where
we will soon sign papers...
saying we're not.

Everything you've ever done
and I, to you...has been
horrible, demeaning and
pathetic.

Even though I remember the laughs
all I can envision is the crying,
the name calling and constant fear
of feeling physical and mental pain.

We're like fire and gasoline.
We can't be together and
we should have realized
this the first time.
I wish I knew why though...

why we can't be civil.
You parade around these halls
with a smile on your face...a song
in your heart..with your new
girlfriend.

Finally trimming your face hairs like
I asked you to for years and you never
would...and me, putting make up on
and walking up right with out a chip
on my shoulder. You hate that I'm
better off with out you.

I hate her walking around in
your hoodie...the same one I bought
for you and would throw on in
the chilly mornings running
to the store for eggs and milk.

I just don't get how it is that
I hate you so much...but I hate
that you're happy.

Twenty minutes later, you're asking
me if we can work things out..
for "our daughter's" sake. But she is
rarely in the conversation..nice
one minute, then telling me how much
everything is all my fault again.

and all I can think is...
your a Fucking psychopath.
THAT is why we can't be civil.