for April

And all i wanted

Was to see in the light

What i was made to figure out

In the dark

Dia de la Abril

"It'll get better"

Was always the phrase

That never made anything better

But worse

We thought,  when?

How?

But you were 26

And here at 36

I think

You were right.

And it's not better at All

So why do we say that

And lie. 

And maybe I'm jealous of you

For finding a way out

For us not doing it together 

sooner

Before any more damage could be done. 

And i live my children

But my life was not meant to spread the disease

And what if i could have stopped it

Way back when? 

You're dead and I'm still here, 

But whose really the dead one, 

And which the one facing their highest potential?

Surrounded by dishes, divorce procedures and paperwork,  more expensive than the marriage itself.  Piles. All the piles. Screaming.  Crying. Threats. 

How can my life stop feeling like an endless duty and truly mine? 

Am i indentured for my own life  

Who am i paying? 

How much? 

Why?

Surrounded

I wonder

Who inhabits the grave between us. 

Why am i so jealous

You found a way out?

Need to find a way out