Five hours from now, you will leave me again.
You've only just returned from your nearly 24-hour time away from me.
I don't trust you.
Because of the many trysts you've had in back seats of cars and "God" knows where else.
You hide.
But, too, you forget - I can see your soul.
If I so choose, I can breathe the stench of your ****** and vile get-off sessions - not from your clothes, but from looking you square in your lying face.
It wreaks of the absence of love. Love for me that is.
That's okay though.
I make plans.
One injection.
My pain ceases.
You won't know, no one will.
I will leave - you know, because you separate yourself from me 19 of 24 hours, and you will have no idea that I've gone.
I will find an old decrepit garage, or abandoned warehouse.
I will sneak in, death juice and syringe in tow,
In the dark and wet corner I will sit.
Listening to Adagio for Strings (you never cared enough to know how much I love it), I will do the deed.
You won't know.
Who knows what you'll think.
Weeks will pass and flesh will rot.
I'll be identified not by the love in my heart, but the love that will yet be on my finger - our wedding ring.
You are not solely responsible for this - this demise.
But, you were my Savior from all that came before.
Saviors lie.