You took the man I married
the man who loved me
You kidnapped and killed
a man who brought me kittens and cream cake
and endless laughter
Who said he’d love me the rest of his life.
What rest did I get after you took his?
Now I live with a facsimile
who thinks I have his worst interests at heart
Who doesn’t see my heart breaking
As I try to reason, be logical, love him
I ask, ‘Coffee darling?’
He hears, ‘Useless bastard!’
I go shopping
He says I’m soliciting
Friends are hired killers
He thinks I have a demon
I wake to find him watching me
Our sharpest knife in his hand
Copyright © 2010 Lynda Finn
My darling husband was schizophrenic. He died, having been discharged “into the care of the community” with no doctor or social-worker follow-up. Believing he had cancer, and having been refused financial help by the government, he starved himself to death.