CONFESSION

Waiting for death like a cat that will jump on the bed.
I am so very sorry for my wife. She will see this stiff white body shake it once, then maybe again."Hank!" Hank won't answer. It's not my death that worries me, it's my wife left with this pile ofnothing. I want to let her know though that all the nights sleepingbeside her, even the useless arguments were things ever splendidand the hard words I ever feared to say can now be said:
I love You.
by CHARLES BUKOWSKI