Today could be the day.
The one where I walk to the mailbox
And find my parole ticket.
It could be the day when I open that little door
To the biggest gift I can imagine.
Today could be the day that begins the rest of my life.
The day that I breathe the first breath of freedom
Since the stale cigarette smell that you carried into my world.
It could be the day that you’re erased
Like the glaring error that you were,
The dirty smudge on the white paper of my future,
So crisp and clean before you darkened it.
Maybe today I’ll rip open the envelope
Containing something more precious than gold.
The envelope will be discarded in the trash,
Where you belong,
But its contents will be the most important
Document I’ve ever held in my hands.
Today could be the day
That you’re finally out of my life completely.
In every way.
I don’t have your name.
You are no longer leeching off of me,
Living in my house,
Driving my car,
Using my credit cards,
Or telling me lies.
But this invisible legal bond
Keeps you on the edges of my life.
I want you gone.
Today could be that day.
But it is not.