Sunday, July 15, 2012


It is not the grand gesture
nor the grinning illusion of truth;

Rather it is the small lies,
which start as seeds of mistrust
growing tendrils of suspicion
that begin the cracking of the foundation.

It is the sly glance at her.
The eyes flicking down
and to the left
when her name is mentioned.

It is the distance in your touch
the murmur in your sleep
of another’s name,
an unfamiliar endearment
that is not and never was mine.

Perhaps you have not yet
touched her except in your mind.
But those fantasy kisses
are stolen from my lips.

Those imagined touches
burn like fire
scorch like flame
exciting and scarring
hearts all the same.

She is the one
who slips beneath the sheets
separating life and dreams.
She is the one who
reaches into your heart
and pushes me aside

She is the one
that is no longer me,
no matter why.



beagleAnnie said...

I feel the strong emotion from your poem.
Have a nice start of the new week.

Lily Fingers said...

nice one..

Anonymous said...

He was just dreaming at first. I knew she was in our bed. Now all three of us sleep alone. Why! What was the purpose of your mutual betrayal. If it was to end me. It worked!

Gaby Vask said...

Woao! Beautiful!