George

he reaches for me
like he reaches for a drink
like he reaches for a drug
like he reaches for a song
to sing himself to sleep

i push him away
hard
i follow the push
with a swinging arm
the back of my hand makes contact

and he is walking away
he is stomping away
his hair swinging to the rhythm
of his movement

half drunk
it's the best
he could do
today

and i am angry
and i am sad
and i am greiving
like mad

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