I always liked the bad boys. A counselor said it was because
my father was a mean man who treated me badly.
I don’t know about that. I just found the bad boys more fun.
I liked the excitement and the way unlike the nice guys the bad boys kept things interesting.
And I liked the challenge of trying to change a bad boy
into a better boy.
I mean everybody has some good in them. Isn’t that right?

Jeffery Moore was the love of my life, the baddest of bad boys.
I knew I could bring out some good boy in him, and he did have
a lot of good in him. He had a pit bull he treated like a king.
He’d been to jail and stuff. People told me he was too dangerous.
They didn’t know him. Sometimes he could be physically abusive,
but he’d always say he was sorry and couldn’t help himself.
And he had a bad life, and that made him mean sometimes.

He lost his temper one night when drunk and couldn’t help himself
when he punched me so hard I fell and hit my head on the stove and that night I left this world. And poor Jeffery, he went to jail.
I saw him after I died, and he cried all night in jail missing me.
He was sorry and loved me and never meant to kill me.
I’m still with him in spirit, though he doesn’t know I’m still here.
I refused to move on from the earth plane and lose him.
But hard as I try, and though I still love him and forgive him,
I can’t break through the wall between the living and the dead.

Bob Boyd