Last night I didn’t come home
I wanted to be in a world of my own, and for a minute, I just might have entered
Time is going by and I know you’re worried
But the guilt isn’t as tempting as my mans bedspring
Home is the hell that I have died and gone to for what seems like a million times
And I’d rather have this drink than to have you breathing down my back
The hotness of your breath when you call me ugly
But little do you know that void can be filled by him calling me beautiful
Don’t fret that your “best dad” title has been taken by a man who hardly even knows
me
But who can tell me the things I’ve so longed to hear from you…
…for a price
Time is of the essence and life I need not spend living to your expectations of love,
beauty, intelligence, or passion.
When you’ve had no compassion
So I say, why should I?
So I’ll let you worry, while I stay and get my satisfaction
And I hope that maybe I’ll cause a little more pain to you
For this time not coming home
To maybe one day measure up…to the pain I feel now.
Bernadette Levi is a 2010 GirlSpeak editor.
