this cold place by: orange
So here I am again, alone, on a typical December evening,
Waiting for her and the kids to come home.
They left earlier today, but why, she wouldn’t say,
Only that she would be back in time,
To have dinner on the table by no later than a few minutes to nine.
That was three hours ago, and still no sign of that….
But she’ll be back, she always comes back,
It’s probably just the roads, the snow came down heavy, and probably hid the track,
That leads through the woods to get down to our shack, it’s special you know,
We got it together so we would always know where our love nest is at…
So what if I lost my job, we have each other, I don’t care about her mom.
Always in her ear about my anger and liquor,
They are mine and she knew about it, we always work through it together,
She knows I didn’t mean to hit her, it was just one too many shots of liquor,
Cause vodka on the rocks tops any day off, I just wish she wouldn’t ruin it with all her nagging talk.
About how she has sooooo much to deal with and that I do nothing to contribute…
Does she know how hard it is to find a job anymore, it’s not like ones just going to walk through the door…
Where is she, I need her to take away some of this anger, to cool off some of this rage, instead I’m being tortured, alone in this cage.
No one here but me, forcing me to take a good look at the walls around me,
The pictures there, show moments of time that looked better,
Frozen forever so they might be remembered, and used to forget all the bad things that led here…
If she doesn’t come back I know what I’ll do
I’ll go out in the snow and make sure the path is clear,
And tell myself “now she’ll have to come back to you.”
I mean how could she not with all I just went through,
It was a lot of snow and I damn near froze, that’s way worse than all of her woes…
What would she do if I died, then again, I don’t even know if she’d cry.
I’ve been such a piece of work, and you know what, what’s the temperature as it is,
I could just lay down and take a nap in her shirt,
Really it’s mine, but she had to have it,
So when I wasn’t around she could still have my scent.
Now it smells like her even though her warmth is no longer present,
It’s purpose still stays…
So as I lay myself down on the dirt, the liquor in my veins will keep me numb to the pain.
Till I pass out and sleep under the cool white sheets,
Then maybe she’ll forgive me, and my kids won’t have to ever visit me.
I won’t ruin them, and make them take it out on their friends…
That’s what’s best, I’ll finally take responsibility for this mess…
And as the cold takes me into her embrace, I feel my heartbeat take on a slower pace,
And then as the snow covers my back, and she caresses my face,
It all fades to black, no more rage in…
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