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Poem	when I look back now at the abuse I took from her I feel shame that I was so innocent, but I must say she did match me drink for drink, and I realized that her life her feelings for things had been ruined along the way and that I was no mare than a temporary companion; she was ten years older and mortally hurt by the past and the present; she treated me badly: desertion, other men; she brought me immense pain, continually; she lied, stole; there was desertion, other men, yet we had our moments; and our little soap opera ended with her in a coma in the hospital, and I sat at her bed for hours talking to her, and then she opened her eyes and saw me: "I knew it would be you," she said. then hse closed her eyes. the next day she was dead. I drank alone for two years after that.
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