her words will never escape me,
  and so my perception of
  her… of all our years, is
  no longer real.
we had known each other since
  high school, and married
  early.
(I’d thought that I’d been
  the first and only.)
because of a depression that lasted
  ten years, I changed.  I don’t
  remember all of the times
  that she held me while I
  cried, but I still see her
  making love to me when
  the world was not such a
  bad place.
(I was not so pityful, and
  she was hungry.)
she had told me throughout those
  years that it was fine to
  break down… that I should
  take all the time needed to
  heal… that one day she would
  need me.