K. Barratt
He came home and told me the truth.
The truth, after the lie. Lies. And he
Stood there, as Michelangelo after
Finishing La Pieta, expecting a round
Of applauses, I guess. After all, he
Had been brave. He had owned his mistake
And told the truth. After the lies.
After the carefully crafted lies, a polished
Rosary that extended back years. One,
After the other, in perfect symmetry,
Smooth, beautifully round, the lies.
He told them all, as a school boy talking
About the summer holiday. In minute
Detail, he said them. Each and everyone
Of them, because he wanted a fresh start.
With me, of all people.
And he looked at me surprised at my
silence. The therapist came into
The conversation. Apparently
This confession would set him free to really
Love me and commit to us,
So he and I would become a “we”.
And then he came and hugged me,
Promising that if I did my part, “we” would be alright.
As if I had lied. Betrayed. Shredded his heart
Into so many chards that some of them were
Still missing, probably forever. He hugged me
Harder and shed a tear, speaking of futures
And plans and I wished I could have joined
Him, but the well of my tears is now a dried,
Empty hole, with some mud at the bottom
And nothing more. And he then let out one last
Pearl, the final lie, to really, fully
Purify his soul. And I lost it.
How dare he? After the hell
He built for me, the dungeon
Where I lied to myself to not lose faith
In him, in us, in “we”, doubting
My eyes, my thoughts, biting my lips
To not ask, to not spell out what
Was tormenting my mind, bringing
Myself down, because, surely,
He would not do this to me,
His love was real, as real as was his
Absence, his void, even when he
Was present; real as his indifference
To the flowers of my spirit, those
I shared with him in an intimate
Communion, where the only one opening
The doors of her soul was me.
And he was going to erase away all that
Pain, all that rage, all that desperation
With a revelation and a tear?
The hell he was.
I shoved, I pushed, I screamed.
I threw and broke and smashed.
I laughed and weep and hissed.
He called me mad.
And I proved him right.
raw and powerful
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