Beneath your pillow, I left some words.
We said we do, for better or worse.
Vowed to communicate everything .
But of lately your words are out of line.
Words shared between enemies.
We know them well.
What is this thing we’ve made our home?
My precious flower not so anymore. For I give it freely to be smelt by another.
It hurts my heart to know what I have done. But time was given and grieve did abound.
I endured the tortures. Never allowed the hurt to show. My reward I reaped for foolish I followed.
Never could that be an answer  to fix anything. Yet this was the road I travelled, without knowing I did. “The part which you judge you become” (words I understand too late)
The harshness of your love now cures only your pain. You’ve walked this part twice before me.
And holding your hand, we carried on. Never have I forsaken you because of wrongful thinking.
I asked only the same charity in return. “No position to cry” instead I got.
My love is strong and makes me seem weak. The heart cares even when it is hated.
Side by side we lie each night. Our words are few even none. I’ve heard of true love but it doesn’t invite me to its parties. Unwanted always and forever I guess.
As a servant I answer when you call for your needs. Moments when all your harsh words return to me.
Have  you no heart? Are not the things you said followed by apology?
Eyes so filled I can’t see your face. Your ****** sounds makes it clear to see that you are having fun.
Its sad to know that this fun is one way. But your servant girl can’t endure much more.
These are the word really- I should have left-beneath your pillow.