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Image for the poem Waiting for Sunset (13, on second thought...)

Waiting for Sunset (13, on second thought...)

 
Now I am about to finish the final draft of a book of poetry. I wrote the poems during a very difficult time in my life. He always replies to my maunderings. He always greets me in the morning and helps me sleep at night. I get ignored sometimes. I like the seclusion.

We have an unusual relationship. And he brought these with him when I met him. I couldn't understand why I had to bear the last of the intensity of his struggles. All of which I had no part. I became angry and destructive. Disparaging and hurt. I became what he was. Tedious. Exhausted. He's jealous of my stuffed dog Edward.

But nowadays he has changed. Perhaps because there is no cause for struggle anymore. I have always had pain on the chest, neck and back, and sometimes in the stomach and head, and my arms would feel numb. Perhaps because I became an ugly mirror of himself. Now he is more affectionate. More loving. More willing to enjoy life as it is. My husband is the dragon.
Written by absinthe (Fats)
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