Tag Archives: betrayal

All I See

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One year later
and it still hurts,
I’m still crying.
A girlfriend told me
My sister grieved for eight years.
Do I have seven left to go?
I gather proof of their togetherness;
each image I see
drives the knife in deeper.
Friends ask me
Are you sure you want to see this stuff?
It’s for my attorney, I answer.
But there’s a part of me,
beyond lawyers
and terms like adultery,
who just wants to see.
I want to see how he spends his time,
the person he has become,
the images he chooses to share
with the world,
or at least the part of the world
he hasn’t blocked.
I’m on the outside looking in,
knocking at the door,
searching for a new sense of belonging.
I thought he was the door
to love, stability, family, connection.
I thought he was my savior.
But now I look up,
and I can’t see him anymore.
I look up,
and all I see is my reflection.

Nothing Makes Sense

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Holding on.
Why?
A part of me thinks
he’ll come back
and apologize.
That’s nuts!
Would I even want
to get back together
with a man
who dissolved our marriage,
blamed me for it,
had an affair,
and lied about it?
And what would that say about me
if I took him back after all that?
What does it say about my self-esteem,
my sense of self-worth, my pride?
But still I fantasize about our family
being together again,
the four of us living
under the same roof again;
I fantasize about
being welcomed by his family again.
Nothing makes sense inside.
Nothing makes sense.

How?

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You have to just let go
they keep telling me.
But how?
I think really
IT needs to let go of me.
IT has its hooks in me.
I want to be free.
I want to feel alive again.
I don’t want to be angry,
hurt, sad or depressed anymore.
I want to set my life in order.
I want my home to be organized.
I want to have work
that allows me
to support myself and my children.
But tomorrow
I apply for food stamps
because my money is all gone.
I get angry when I think about this.
He left our marriage,
and has moved on.
Now he spends his time
and his money on another.
Yes, I want to let go.
But how?

I Hope So

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Driving home,
tired to the bone,
the Pawlonia and honey locust
give me hope,
glowing in the setting sun.
Whizzing by
do the other drivers see
the majesty of this moment,
this life?
I’m feeling alone.
All of the other old feelings come back.
I ask again why it has come to this,
why I am now struggling financially,
why my children aren’t with me daily,
why he gets to strut around town
with a new woman
(in her sexy dresses and high heels)
while I’m at home alone
worrying about money.
I’m tired.
Maybe this will all look different tomorrow.
I hope so.

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 18: Off

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I sit down to write my daily poem with one hour left in this day, and I notice how tired I am.  Here is today’s NaPoWriMo prompt.  It sounds like a beautiful idea and process, but I just don’t have the energy in me right now.  So I’m going off prompt!

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My whole life was turned upside down last July
when my husband told me he wanted a divorce
and it hasn’t flipped upright since then.
I haven’t eaten well, slept well,
or felt truly like myself in a long time.
I have lost mutual friends to the story he told,
and really, would I want them as friends
if they can turn based on one person’s story?
But all the same I miss them
and don’t know what to do with these feelings
of grief, loss and betrayal.
I don’t know what to do with the images
of him making love to another woman,
images in my mind, more real
than anything I could see in a movie theater.
I don’t know what to do with the hopes I had,
hopes to reconcile, hopes to rebuild,
to recommit, to outlast all the trials
and come out standing, stronger, confident
of our love and our bond.
Yes, I haven’t eaten well, slept well,
and I miss closeness with my husband,
in spite of all that he has said and done.
I guess you could say I’m a little “off.”

 

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 16: Toys of Her Own

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Today we’re asked to write about play.  See the prompt here. This year, I’m noticing I’m consumed by the theme of the decimation of my marriage, and so this is the first thing that came to me as I read the prompt.

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There wasn’t enough of it in our relationship.
If there had been, we might have stood a chance.
But things got so serious, especially after we became parents.
The sad part is, we really had all we needed,
and the kids showed us every day how to be natural,
lighthearted, taking pleasure in simple things,
finding the joy in every little thing.
We could’ve let them be our teachers,
but we were too busy trying to be adults.
After a time the little boy in you began to tantrum;
he was tired of being ignored.
And you hadn’t done the work of deep listening,
so the feeling of discontent was taken as evidence
of my failings and our inherent incompatibility…
and that’s the story you told.
We’re just not right for each other.
We’ll never be able to make this work
or so you said. Yes, you weren’t willing to change.
That responsibility fell on me.
So the little girl in me said, “OH HELL NO!”
I had done the work of deep listening,
and I took time to honor the voices within.
Out of love for you and because
I was committed to our marriage,
I increased the time spent sorting myself out,
because I knew I’d be a better wife,
lover, mother, friend, and creatrix
if I could understand the currents at work
within me.
But all those things scared the little boy in you.
He called me selfish.  He said I wasn’t a partner.
And after eight years and two beautiful children,
the tantruming little boy said, “ENOUGH!”
So you got out and you played.
First with some friends,
eventually with another woman’s body.
I try to see the innocence,
you entering her
the way you would a playground,
you picking her up
the way you would pick up flowers
and sticks and bugs,
you riding her
the way you would a swing…
But it wasn’t as innocent as all that,
and you lied when I discovered your games,
tried to make me think I was crazy,
tried to make me doubt myself, my intuition.
Now you’ve found a more expensive toy,
a BMW. Is the little boy happy now?
Maybe one day you’ll see that all you really wanted
was to be seen, and heard and held,
to laugh, to run, to be free…
all you wanted was a little play.
I could’ve given you that,
but you thought you needed new toys.
Farewell, little boy.
This little girl has done her homework.
After the dust settles,
you’ll need to go back to school
and work hard to relearn some basic skills—
respect, honor, dignity,
commitment, understanding, empathy.
Meanwhile my little girl
will be having the time of her life.
She’ll be outside running in the open air,
shouting, whooping, dancing, spinning,
playing with friends and new toys of her own.

Why Should I?

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And just like that,
without warning,
my mood plummets.
Maybe it was the dream I had last night,
the dream where his friends
(who used to be my friends too)
were throwing drinks at me,
telling me to shut up and leave.
I woke up full of fresh grief
and a heaping new dose of betrayal…
and I couldn’t shake it.
Maybe it’s because of that dream
that I felt so withdrawn today.
I guess he noticed.
He felt a need to text me
and tell me how important it is
to “keep the lines of communication open.”
He told me I was being horrible, nasty,
that I was choosing to be like this,
that I could be more decent.
After reading all those admonishments,
I didn’t feel open to more communication.
I still don’t.
But seriously.
Why should I be?