abuse · poetry · relationships · writing

Adultery

Mistake
Beg forgiveness
Repeat

Appearances sanitize past
Push dirt under the rug
Smother recall

Reason can be fraud
common sense out of order

Suspicions merit
an ear, listen
over din of betrayal.

(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge #135:  quotation.  “Always listen twice.  First what’s being said, then who said it.”  Image my own.)

abuse · Love · passion · poetry · relationships

Insatiable

He caved eventually
gave in to her nagging
left his wife, his children,
mistook her naked willingness
for love, a signal of commitment –
it was not – she would not package

her feelings into a domestic box
had no intentions of ever after
clothed her vulnerability in sex

as treacherous as Eve’s serpent
she seduced him, and once ensnared
spit him out with venomous joy

watched him squirm with regrets
his life shattered, heart ravaged
unable to break away, even as

she courted her next victim
twisting her bladed hold on him
he remained, convinced

he somehow deserved this –
had penance to pay, vowed to
make it up to her, could not

shake the depth of his desire
sacrificed himself wittingly
to her insatiable blood lust.

 

dreams · Love · poetry · relationships

Unexpected Guest

An unexpected guest –
invited by a spouse –
sends a wife grasping,
stretching, unsettled
by sequence of events.

She has rattled around
this oversized ranch of
a house, treasured the
rapid upward mobility,
covered up insecurities,

believed their marriage
to be respectable, now
waking up to his secret
tries to calm anxiety by
downplaying interludes

outside the marital bed,
but upstairs the other
has claimed a presence,
her scheming husband
temporarily committed.

Does she keep the secret
or make it public; shatter
their privacy, tear children
from their father, or exist –
convince herself it’s not

real, is over with, sleep
in separate quarters,
hold onto the luxury,
live with what is, try
to keep heart in home?

She can’t handle it
anymore, hindsight
progressing, comfort
no longer valid, risks
losing children, too

weary minded to care,
wondering how she’d
missed the significance
of her husband bringing
home an uninvited guest.
(Image: divorcesupport.about.com)

adversity · dreams · Humour · relationships

Response to Scorned

Hey, I didn’t force you into my bed,
seem to recall you came willingly,
never pretended to be Prince Charming,
was actually intimidated by your Disney
fantasies – thought you liked our
intimacy, would have got up to look
after the children, but you were already
on it, and besides, I never do it right.

The other woman was never about you,
it was about me, feeling inadequate in
face of your uber-confidence, getting
my ego stroked, and …well, you know –
never imagined it would lead here, value
my family – leave the children out of it!

Emasculation?! Let me tell you, working
my ass off to make you happy, when one
minute you say you want one thing, and
the next you chastise my for not knowing
that was a ploy and that I should know
what you actually want, because I am
supposed to be a mind reader – and how
did I know that your great-uncle Bob was
a leach, so I’m expected to make reparation.

Okay, I made a mistake, gave into temptation,
went for the bait, but it was never her I wanted.
All I want is the couple we used to be, that
happy go-lucky, hotter than hell twosome,
who dreamed of a family, and a mortgage,
two cars, two kids, and a dog – I just didn’t
realize it would all be so hard – and somehow
I just started to feel left out of the party, and
don’t worry I’m getting my payback – will
be punished forever – you try being a man!
th-1

dreams · Humour · relationships

Scorned Woman’s Rage

Before I jump into another man’s bed,
(especially one who has already cheated),
whisper my deepest yearnings to his
lusting heart, arch my hips to meet his
less than satisfactory thrust, I will make
sure that his compassion meets mine,
that he has the balls to prioritize, and
does not soften at crucial junctures.

I can look back at past follies, blame
hormonal rages, or beat myself over
shameless acts, but I am not the one
whose cojones, like deflated balloons,
lacked the wherewithal to differentiate
between brain and penis, and chose
to corrupt rather than protect the
sanctity of our children’s future.

Call it emasculation!  Call it female
wrath; accountability goes both ways,
and as long as we women are willing
to carry the burden of guilt, believe
messages shoved down our throats,
and submit to impossible ideation;
relationships will continue to crumble –
Stand up! Make a statement!  Be a man!