Poem: George S.

I'm so sorry, dear.
You can't know how badly I feel.
Alone without you tonight
when I could have been with you.
I wish I were dead
and think about suicide again.
I don't know why you couldn't
make me feel loved.
Why you couldn't hold me more
and pet my hair.
Tell me you loved me
and needed me.
Is that so hard?

Gods help me to feel better!
It isn't right for me to bare so much
alone.
I thought she was going to
help me feel better.
How can I be feeling
so much worse?
My fucking house burns down
and the sympathy I get is:

"I was afraid that was going to happen."

Thanks. Thanks, lots.
I told her I might have a fever,
she didn't even feel my head.
I think I deserve to be loved.
Does she just not know how?
Am I just asking too much?

I'll be O.K.
Life moves on an all that.
Think of George Smiley for inspiration.
He loved his wife,
even if the kind of love
she gave back to him
he could not use.
Even though others
made fun of him.