You come home from another
day at work,
you don’t notice the freshly cleaned house
that smells of lilacs
and your carefully folded laundry.
You ignore the votive candles
that provide the only light,
since the storm put everything else out.
You have more important things on your mind—
That beer in the garage lustfully screams
your name.

She looks beautiful.
However that remains unnoticed, too.
She forgave you countless times before
because she wanted to make things work.
Her only wish is for a strong man
to be there for her when she needs it most.
Tonight
is one of those nights;
she needs to be given a reason to stay.

Despite her efforts of creating an evening
together, her hopes of getting drunk off toxic
kisses and ardent love are denied immediately
after the first words you tell her,
“I’m goin’ out with the guys.”
She tries to convince you not to because
she knows trouble is brewing,
but you don’t listen.
Without another word you grab
that beer on the way out and
slam the door behind you,
leaving her alone
in the thunder and lightning.

She imagines the scene of you
in your near-unconscious state at the bar;
your garbled words and destructive behaviors
that will only increase as the night progresses.
She wonders why she allows it to continue.
She has given a second chance
far too many times.
I can’t do this, she thinks.
I deserve better, she knows.
This time she doesn’t need her proof.
This time she doesn’t want to see
the careless mess that is you,
when you roll out of bed at quarter of one
the next day.

3:04 A.M, says the clock in your musty Chevy
as you swerve into the muddy driveway and
stumble out of the truck into the receding storm.
One candle burns in the window,
a clue that the power is still shot.
A welcome home, you think.
Your wife left it for you, a sure sign of her love.

Wrong. The candle harshly illuminates
a note left on the outside sill.
Your slurred thoughts try their best to make out
the sodden paper.
Wet ink bleeds and stains your fingers.
You decipher the leaking letters,
your blurred vision suddenly becomes clear.
Addiction…Scares me...Can’t deal…leaving.
You read the words aloud, though nobody listens.

This time you notice
that you screwed up.
You stand at the door silently as
tears fall from the drunken
sky, spitting out the truth, though unable
to wash away your mistakes.
This time,
She’s not coming back.