a lost soul at uno

26 january 1995

i look at the poems i wrote
a mere four months ago
and it seems like an eternity
like someone else wrote them
well someone else did
a woman wrote those poems
a woman who felt loved
strong
intelligent
with all her future ahead of her
i think that woman
got left behind in thibodaux
in her office to be exact
in only six weeks
the woman has gone
and the child has returned
the unloved lonely frantic child
and she wonders what happened
where did that woman go?
why did she leave me
to try to deal with
all this new shit
all by myself?
what did i do to make her leave?
and what can i do to get her back?
that box of sleeping pills
looks awfully tempting
so does jumping into the lake
but i know that's not the answer
i wish i knew what was
i need to know before
i get tired of waiting
and empty that box