You left under the cloak of night, again.
To return with your excuse as to why you are late.
What once was harmless, is now unfair, unjust, heartless.
Not on me or you, but her, the one that truly loves you.
I'm the harlot, the iniquity in your life, wickedness personified.
I remove your garments, deal with your hardness and
send you back to her, the promise you made to her broken.
I listen to your moans and return you whole to her.
I'm a social worker, a lover, a comfort, a *****.
You are a client, a bore, a job, a *****.
Our consciousness of what we do is monstrous, yet we do it over again.
I don't love you, you don't love me.
I'm a night deposit banking facility.
You drop off a deposit, leave, and go home.
What lies do you tell her?
Does she believe you?
Is paying for me cheaper than a divorce?
We both are heartless under the cover of darkness

Did I love you when we first met?
No.
That sounds cold but, truth is often painful.
Was I looking for someone like you?
No.
That is a brutal truth.
Were you persistent?
Yes.
Did you win my heart?
Eventually. With roses? No, with chocolates? No.
You won my heart, by accepting me.
You won me by being you.
I love how our love grew.
I wasn't looking for love, it somehow found me.
Did you write me poems?
No.
Sing me love songs?
No.
Did we have anything in common?
No.
But, love grew, desire bloomed.
We needed each other, we still need and want each other.
Over coffee, Monty Python and a gentlemanly kiss on my cheek
I knew that love was real, it crashed into my heart like a wrecking ball.
Is love like the movies?
Is it *******.
It's more like a Wile E Coyote cartoon.
You bought an ACME love boulder!
Meep meep!

The wine glasses stand sentinel,
to last night.
Candles burnt out,
wax cold pooled
on the dining table.
Remnants of the supper
testament to our hunger and
for each other, as lovers.
The house is cold now
like my anger.
Last night,
You told me we were over
You'd fallen for another
younger lover.
Last night my anger was red like the wine
in the sentinel glasses.
Now cold, daylight brings a clarity,
time to start the cleaning.
I'll sweep the table's items into the bin.
I'll keep nothing touched by him.
I'll then take a bath to recover and figure out
what to do with you.
You can't lie on the floor forever.

Turn the page
Start a new chapter
Stand on a new stage
Feel the rapture
Escape your cage
Just
Don't let life capture
Your rage.

Turn the page
Start anew
Begin a new age
Those dreams pursue
Use life to gauge
When to engage, and
When to say 'adieu'
Just
Don't let life capture your rage.

Life is a book
It's pages to turn
Which direction you take
May not always be firm
Be firm with yourself
Follow your path
If faced with a fork.....then
Uncork your rage
And choose.

You came in late, again
I said hello, pecked your cheek
and waited for the flow of excuses.
None came.
You went and poured a drink
I sat awaiting your words.
You came back in, sat heavily down
and looked at the floor.
I felt rage inside my breast,I had news to tell.
You never asked how I was, or how my day went.
I sat quietly waiting, listening to the ice ***** the glass,
I felt as vulnerable as that ice cube, once solid now melting,
waiting, fuming, controlling my anger.
You looked up, you looked at me, no through me, and said
"I'm late because I've been having an affair"
Did a freight train just hit me? I felt despair, but you said more,
"She's pregnant, and is keeping the child"
Clarity liberated me from my stupor, late nights,
meetings, high mileage on the car.
I asked a question,
"Are you leaving me?"
You dropped your head, and said the words most wives dread
"Yes, I have to be a father, do the right thing, I love you but....."
Your words trailed off.
I stood up, took your glass and refilled it for you.
My turn.
"Did you start coming home late because of her? Or because I've gained weight? Or both those reasons?"
Silence.
"Pack your bags, leave the keys, get a hotel bed"
Those words came out so clear, you'd swear I'd knifed you.
                                               ~
At the front door, you turned, about to say something, I cut you off
"Send me your new address, I need it for the solicitor,
I'm divorcing you. And by the way, before I forget, you're not the only
one that's been late, it would seem you know how to propagate"
I shut the door, rubbed my tummy, and waited to be called mummy.

What might have been is no more.
Time to forget, and leave regrets to the past.
Emotional attrition has no place in going forward.
I loved you.
Did you love me?
I'll never know, it was never to be.
I'll remember the way we laughed
I'll remember the way we glanced at each other
I'll never be sorry for loving you
No repentance is needed
We both took different paths.
My regret is that I still see your face in my dreams
I'll be contrite this night, lying by my husband and
Not you

I write at night, it seems the best way
to deal with the horror of day.
Quietude, peace and darkness surround me
Clears my mind, focuses my thoughts.
Allows me to demonstrate through words
my understanding, of this, they call living.

Living in the light of day, means a lot of
shadow play, fake smiles, small talk,
neighbourly actions, following the rules
to keep you in your place.
Being friendly, making small talk, pretending to care.
When all you want to do is lock them all in a zoo.

Gossip, malice, neighbourly disputes, cars scratched
Dogs defecating, owners not caring, traffic noise
Kids shouting, parents shouting, horns blaring.
Pretence, grievance, affectation, keeping up appearances.
Front door closed, you realise that you're feigning interest.

Hypocrisy reigns during the day.
Pretension, feigning interest, losing your soul to the classes
the masses, paying lip-service to the day.
When all you want is the night and to be able to say
*******. Leave me to the chill calm of the night, and to write.