Waiting for Sunset (12, on second thought...)

 
Now I am about to finish the final draft of a book of poetry. I am beginning to miss my husband. She said she kept hearing voices. He always replies to my maunderings. He always greets me in the morning and helps me sleep at night. My tumors are all behaving themselves too. I like the seclusion.

We have an unusual relationship. I became angry and destructive. Disparaging and hurt. I became what he was. Tedious. Exhausted. Isn't a belief in rationality completely irrational? Perhaps because I became an ugly mirror of himself. Now he is more affectionate. More loving. More willing to enjoy life as it is. Here, a radiating warmth, so different from western Europe.

But nowadays he has changed. Now he has the glow of life inside him. He has the strength to keep me from destroying myself. If the butterfly sits on the horns of the bull then she gets a free ride and makes the bull look pretty. Then I'll train my dragon from a distance. I could play the blues. So we're starting over. My husband is the dragon.