That Lady

I threw it away. All of it. Her flowers, her perfume, her jewelry (then I realized I could make money off that so I kept it) even her pictures. I just put it all in a large box and buried it in the wood line behind the house. I wanted to rid myself of her, that lady.
She was my woman. She was. Now she's nothing, just the dust you see in the glow of a desk light. Only forty. One week and it'd be forty-one. I'm older, not much but older.
I'm drinking all the same. On my way to work, at work, and on my way home from work. The bills are getting harder to pay, understandable but still tough. I started drinking three years ago. She was terribly angry at me, that lady. That I guess you can say is when the fire went out.
I started to sleep on the couch. That lady made me. Funny, ten years ago she couldn't sleep without my arms wrapped around her. I couldn't sleep either. I need that woman.
That was the worst, not being able to sleep with woman I wed. Maybe that's why I did it. Yes, I think that's probably it. I don't think they know where she's buried yet.
I was looking through an old cabinet this morning and I found a picture of her. I looked at for some five, ten minutes. I loved her, I really did. I dug up the box and took it back inside. (I had already sold the jewelry)
That lady. We loved each other so much. She was my life. I know something more about life from my lady now. Some real good advice. All love is blind until it has been shattered, only then is it true.