Poem: Murderer?

I killed the man she loved.
I can hear it in her voice.

The weak-willed, codependant, man
she could control.
The predictable, the forgetful,
the man with access to drugs.
Oh, yes, the Drugs.
The Marvelous Drugs he had.
The Drugs she needed so badly.
The Drugs she deserved.

She had made such plans for him,
for them.
Exquisite plans.
It would have been perfect.

But I had to come along
and fuck it all up.
Me, with my sobriety.
Me, with my aversion to enabling.
Me, with my audatious request
for a little time off,
So that I could get housing.
So that she could get a Doctor.
The two most troubling aspects
of our relationship,
fixed in one fell swoop
of fifty days or so.
Or so I thought.

She must have really loved him,
to be so mad at me.
I hope one day she'll love me
as much.

Until then I'll keep doing
the very nexy right thing
the best I know how.
Learning to live in the present
and discovering what Life asks from me,
rather than what I ask from life.