Poetry For The Broken

lament

I reach for my phone whenever I see you close.
I make up excuses just to leave your side.
I've been to the store three times this week,
A lie I tell, pretending I forgot something I didn't need.

My mind wanders to him when you make love to me.
You speak about your day, and it bores me to tears.
I no longer love you—I can tell by the way
My eyes no longer shine when you speak.

My hands don't seek yours; instead, they feel clammy,
Your grand gestures fall flat, like paper planes in a storm.
Your kisses feel too wet, too sloppy, too wrong.
And in my dreams, I see him, clear and unhidden.

With him, I come undone, my breath stolen whole.
I convince myself I've done nothing wrong.
People go through this, don't they? I tell myself.
I blame you for letting yourself go.

I blame my childhood, my lack of boundaries.
I know I am the problem, but I will never admit it.
Why would I say aloud that I am the sinner?
Admitting is accepting fault, so I don't.

Instead, I send him pictures when you're not looking,
I let him touch me in ways you never could.
How I wish you'd take a vacation, leave me alone.
How I wish you worked in another state.

I tell myself you must be cheating too,
That redheaded secretary is too pretty to ignore.
And yet, I feel no guilt—why should I?
Your love, to me, is a shadow long gone.

Anger churns in me like a storm at sea.
You trap me in a life I no longer want.
I feel no guilt, only pleasure in the sin.
Everyone sins, so why is mine greater?

I cast off my shame as I cast off my clothes,
Welcoming his hands, precious and deliberate.
Why should I feel guilt when his touch feels divine?
Why should I feel burdened when our voices blend into music?
Why should I care, when you probably do it too?

I let him have me because I deserve to feel alive.
Your eyes, dull with trust, fuel my resentment.
Why don't you fight harder, why don't you see?
You're blind to my sins, and that only enrages me.
I'll keep this secret, unburdened by shame.