Monday, March 19, 2012

A Wrong Decision

Laying in bed
I wonder if he'll ever come home.
Earlier that morning,
With a kiss good-bye he was out the door,
"Lots to do at the office" was his excuse.
But how can so much work pile up,
if he's been leaving home so early
          for the past two weeks?
And then it's the call at about six.
"Still lots to do,
I'll be eating dinner here.
Don't stay up for me.
I love you."
At first I thought it was dedication.
A lawyer's commitment,
to the law.
to the firm..
to the client...
But now,
when I go to say "I love you" in return,
it's barley an audible whisper.
He knows I know.
His commitment to the client is more than his commitment to me.
At about 2 a.m. I hear the garage door.
I pretend to be asleep as he leans over me
and kisses the top of my forehead.
When the light to the bathroom goes on,
I wipe the tear from my eye.
Her perfume still lingers.
It causes me to think,
to question.
I question our life,
and my trust in him.
I question every kiss,
every embrace.
I question yesterday,
and if there's even a tomorrow.
Night is prisoner to my sorrows.
It has no choice but to observe his wrongdoings,
and my heartbreak.


Any note you wish to leave behind, I wish to read.