She was sitting in the back of a police car.
She was crying: I
killed him I killed him.
It's a story you may know.
She
worked as the receptionist for a real estate office.
A few doors down, there was a counseling center.
Outside, a young man in a pick-up truck was slumped against the seat.
A prince when it began, he became possessive.
Everything and anything sent him into a rage.
Day was night and black was white and red, he'd swear, was yellow,
if
you leave me, he would say, I will....
and I guess he got what he was after.
She was crying,
and sure that she had killed him.
It's a story that I know,
I worked at the counseling center,
and I hope she didn't let the bastard win.