How Does It Make You Feel When You Betray Me?

Courage is a quality known of the betrayed, for they are inflicted with something they do not deserve. Marital infidelity is in direct range and the bullseye is the affair that puts at risk everything: the love of our lives from our youth; all we’ve ever worked so desperately hard for; our reputations in the balance; all for one glamorous fling.

Yes, I’ve lived through such a hiding to the senses; to learn, somehow, I wasn’t good enough to retain the love of my life, when all I was doing was the best I knew how. Those who receive few if no complaints have no way of knowing how close to the edge they really are.

Marital betrayal is best when it’s a mere communication; worst when another party comes between the two God put together. I do empathise for every betrayed party, and yet, not in a thousand lifetimes would I want to be in the unfaithful partner’s shoes.

I have written a little poem on the present subject below.

I hope you can feel the desperation and livid sense of anger in these words below. There is no anger like the vengeance in a jilted husband or wife’s fury.

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How does it make you feel...

When your grown man wants to cry?
What kind of twisted deal,
Have you made that makes him want to die?

Now for her it’s much the same,

Now for her, hers is the pain!

She never did anything to you,
But love your sorry being,
She remained ever so faithfully true,
Now you’re the one who’s fleeing.

How do you get off,
When all is damaged and destroyed,
Carnage and you scoff,
When nobody but the innocent

Has the right to be annoyed!

You think you’ve got the right to stew,
And you may be angry at yourself,
But don’t take it out on your precious few,
When you’re angry it’s not good for my health.

You’ve made betrayal a fire,
You put us to the test,
You’ve expressed your weak desire,
Now what’s left for us, the rest?

What’s the family come to be,
When you’ve eschewed us all along?
How will we be set free,
When our weakness is met with your wrong?

I’m so beyond all this garbage now,
How can you ever know what I’ve been through?
How can I trust you again and allow,
You the opportunity to hold me true?

© 2015 S. J. Wickham.