#husbands
To me, this sounded so final and trite,
But his wife, she said, left him,
Cause she couldn't be a wife.
There's a fine epitaph to carve,
On the stone above his life:
*My wife, they say, left me,
Cause she couldn't be a wife;
That's all she ever wanted,
To be this dead man's wife*.
A couple passing by the script,
Might read an enigmatic drift.
What kind of wife, the woman asked,
I wonder what he meant by that.
One who'd drink and drink some more,
Smoke and eat and grow so fat
On Caesar's Salad and chocolate.
Could she nurse through any sickness;
See it for what it is;
For what it was;
Work with the outcome,
Not the cause.
And yet, it's true, all along,
He wasn't in control.
Not abuse, or waywardness,
But the drink that dries the soul.
What could that wife do
In the fight.
They each promised,
Each meant each life;
Does she get to choose the sickness?
What kind of wife gets to pick it?
I know he didn't give objection,
As many husbands do,
When she raised ablutions
To false gods she eschewed;
They promised on the temple pinnacle
That all is theirs, if she submits,
To the pyramids that promise riches.
Till death do us part.
Now that's a lark,
In a song of lament.
She could have been any wife
She'd deem to choose in her life;
She chose,
For a limited time,
On a definition
He declined.
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 10:17 AM UTC
I hate you!
You've shattered my heart
and broken my trust.
All this anger
boiling through my veins
turning the pieces of my heart
to cold hard stone.
I hate you!
You've turned my anxiety
into paranoid Suspicion.
You cheated on me.
Why did you cheat on me?
Why did you do this to me?
All these thought running through my head,
Did I do something wrong?
What did I do to deserve this?
Am I not good enough?
You're my Husband,
my Best Friend.
You say you love me,
but how can I believe you,
when you toss our love aside?
You sexually flirt online
with random strange women.
Yet I am over here
screaming for your attention.
I'm practically throwing myself
into your arms.
Begging and pleading
for just one small touch,
and you Toss me to the side.
As the tears fall
and my throat raw
from holding in the screams.
My Soul burns and stings
from the pain of your betrayal.
I Hate You!
For hurting me,
I Hate You!
Why did you do this to me?
I Hate You!
Why am I not good enough?
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 5:30 PM UTC
I try and I try; pressing down, running it under hot water, squeezing until I cry,
But alas I am a magician with no tricks left; a poet with no sentences to string; an armless mannequin.
As Abraham did, I ventured outward bound, to a land of strong-armed jar-openers, who of it can be said? Who can be found? I need me a husband?!
I knocked and I knocked; no answer sound, but a stranger stepped forth; his arms weren't big but his mouth wide and he opened the jar, I smiled.
May 26, 2024
May 26, 2024 at 5:45 AM UTC