What wxactly am I mourning?
Am I mourning the cold eyes and hard fist? Am I craving the stench of alchol that fills the room when he comes home... if he comes home?? I know he's ****. I know I hated myself every time I gave in to him. So why when I see him now, and he's out drinking himself into a mess, why when he's cornered me and is screaming in my face, does it seem like all I do is look into his eyes and see the man I promised to love enternally and unconditionally?:wtf2