Faithfool
It didn't matterAt first;
The desire,
The thirst
For each other
Overcame,
With excuses
Lame,
Any consideration
For those in their, our homes –
Unaware, each in their, our,
Domestic domes.
The cheating
Was loved through;
We didn't think about facing anything;
We were new
And beyond
The bounds
Of thoughtful
Sounds.
One day,
You arrived late
For our clandestine
Date:
I furioused at you
For keeping
Me waiting.
You looked tired – I asked if you'd been sleeping
With him.
"He's my husband," you said
"What do you think that we do
In bed?"
I how-could-youed
A glare
That took away
All of the care
That our secret
Had built
And put
Guilt
On the menu.
After a lecturing look
Of "you hypocrite"
And the thrown book,
I tried
To hold
You.
You told
Me
To go:
Your goodbye eyes
Said "no"
To my
Wide-lid plead
To stop
The bleed.
You needed time.
I had no choice:
I'm still waiting
To hear your voice.
10:44, Tue. 10/03/2009
Poetry by Mark J. Wood
Read 928 times
Written on 2009-05-22 at 12:28
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Dee Daffodil |
|
Elle |
