That night, your wife closes her book slow.
“These women… it’s odd, don’t you think?”
“Too many women in our home,” she adds softly.
You stare at the contract, pen uncapped.
A happy wife or the dream you built?
Rain starts again, soft but endless.










That night, your wife closes her book slow.
“These women… it’s odd, don’t you think?”
“Too many women in our home,” she adds softly.
You stare at the contract, pen uncapped.
A happy wife or the dream you built?
Rain starts again, soft but endless.









