A poem I wrote quite a while ago that is apart of my Wife Series:

The Wild Man’s Wife

HAHAHA laughed the wild old man
and aimed his rifle between his heart and mine
this romance balances on a needle and thread
too fragile for his liking or mine
he wished mistakes could be undone
down the line and the past rewind
so he shoots the cat lives nine, no fun
for him or for me

HAHAHA laughed the wild old man
his white beard sprouts in direction seven
one for each of my hands a pair:
hands that pray to heaven
hands the clay do mould
hands that sold
hands that gave
hands that forgave
hands that forget
and hands that regret
they dance around his shoulders
hands that clay do moulder
and tip toe through the night
and held on a leash by day
so my avatar is a puppet to his insane game, no fun
for him or for me

HAHAHA dead the wild man’s wife
on and on my death bed lay
staring through wild eyes - no life
in a coffin moulded in clay
too fragile for his liking or mine
he wished mistakes could be undone
down the line and the past rewind
so he shoots the cat lives nine, no fun
for him