His Pleasure Is My Pain

A man stands in the doorway like a small child

Angry fists

She lies on her bed her head buried in her pillow

And she stares at the moon

He speaks to her all the words shes heard too many times before

And pretty soon she just let's his voice fade away

And she thinks

This was a gradual steel frost

That started with cold feet

And ended with numb hearts

This was once satisfying sex but now no longer is

It was once filled with the possibilities of new china or old stone

But now it's exagerated and waterlogged no longer what these

Hands had

Intended and still I cry in my sleep

He always said I was too sensitive

But I say

At least I never meant to make him cry

At least I never meant to make him hurt that way

Nooo I never meant to make him cry

Never meant to make him hurt that way

Yes it's true, I'm too senstive

But he takes pleasure in my pain

Yes it's true, I'm too senstive

But he takes pleasure in my pain

And the unheard hours they fly by

She goes to the window

She puts on a nightgown and brushes her hair

He's already asleep

By the time she

Goes and lays herself back down

She thinks

My God, what am I doing hear?

My bones have grown tired of his hunger, of his gray eyes

And I feel if I were to stay one more night here I'd die or explode

Or worse yet just fade away

There have been days so dark that I felt like August

And that I soon too would turn to fall

He always said I was too sensitive that if I cared so much

The world could kill me that way

I wonder if he's only half alive or if he's simply always been this

Inarticulate

Cause I say

And she get's out of bed and looks at her feet as though they

Were the wings for her freedom

She gets up and goes to the door

It's a moment in which anything can happen

Instead she gets out some clothing

Puts it in a bag and leaves him sleeping

While she heads for the door