It stalks – colourless,
soulless, skin of leather,
ears tufted – a demon
predator crouching
in the private places
awaiting bloody attack
A wife reigns in instinct
ignores niggling senses
guards her loyalty –
vaguely speaks to spouse
of fears, accepts a shrug
as compliance, relaxes
Routine a barrier to what
lies within, darkness waiting,
watching – convinces herself
serenity is a state of mind,
while her husband seeks
a more youthful companion
Has plotted his escape –
accomplices secured –
intends to bulldoze
the marriage – feeds
the beast with covert
manipulations, lies
Inexperience lures the
maiden, sandwiched
between his lust and
her hope, willing to risk
precariousness, encroach
on marital privacy, bait
for what lurks there,
impatient for the kill;
but who will fall victim,
whose heart be torn
in irreconcilable pieces
when betrayal strikes.
(Image: mixtapetherapy.wordpress.com)
Captured the essence…but she isn’t always younger…
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No she isn’t – she was in my case. In my mother’s case, it was her best friend.
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Well written.
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Thank you, Kate.
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