The Affair

When memories come like blinding flashes
She just stops and holds her breath;
The loneliness of her existence –
So much fragile, silent death

The weight that’s slowly crushed her
Like entrapment ‘neath a concrete wall:
So better an empty, false connection
Than no
Connection
At all

Ironic Attachment

Ironic Attachment

She met him off in hotel rooms.
He’d often keep her waiting:
Then laugh at her impatience, saying
“It’s not like we’re dating.”

They did the things he wanted to.
The he would dress to go,
And she’d ask when she’d seem him next,
He’d say he didn’t know

But that he’d text when he was free.
And so it went – that life –
Her waiting for his messages,
And him home with his wife.

Then one day they agreed to meet,
Upon the door he knocked,
But found his wife in there instead,
And he was more than shocked –

She said, “I had to see, myself.
That you’re this big a jerk –
Don’t bother coming home, because
Your keys no longer work.”

He texted his long mistress, full
Of savage words, berating —
She said, “Hey, dude, get over it.
It isn’t like
We’re dating…”

Just Because

Who, indeed, am I to judge.

She didn’t love him anymore.
So she’d found someone else instead:
They’d text each other through the day
Or find some stolen time in bed.

She never told her husband, since
She didn’t mean to cause him pain;
He was her friend, and as a father
He’d done little to complain

About. But that was all aside;
She had a lover, that was life–
And who am I to judge her, just
Because she used to be
My wife

Different Things

He wasn’t sure, and so he told his dad…

He wasn’t sure, and so he told his dad:
He thought he’d leave his marriage and move on –
His father’s voice was low and rather sad,
When he said, “Son – some things, once lost, are gone.

Now, you don’t need to tell me anymore.
I’ve seen that girl who you have on the side;
And your life’s yours, but I would be a poor
Father, indeed, if I just let this ride –

You seem confused in terminology,
You’re stringing words on which you’ve gotten hung.
So I will set you straight, as best I can:
That girl’s not ‘beautiful’, son – she’s just ‘young’.

See, ‘young’ and ‘beautiful’ are different things;
For cheap new plastic, don’t trade
Golden rings

Carolina Sunset

Serious thoughts amid beautiful surroundings.

And now, she sees the Carolina sunset
In blue and orange stripes across the sky;
She’ll now admit, what she’s known from the onset,
The life that she’s been living is a lie

She never loved the husband that she married,
She has a job she doesn’t want at all;
The love back in her past she thought she’d buried –
He’s come back from behind denial’s wall

But what she doesn’t know, is he’s a liar;
He has three other women here and there,
And while she’s thinking that their love’s a fire,
He’s just about to finish their affair

So lies blend into lies and make our fates;
This is the way we humans choose
Our mates