A Dying Widow

i can taste her on your lips. the stain from her lipstick is infused to the fibers on your white work shirt. I'm guessing the color is cherry red. the scent of her perfume weakens my stomach, knots my heart, takes every hope i had of our future and turns it into mud, blood boiling like shower water you washed with to scrub her touch off your body but could never get clean enough to lay in bed next to me. early morning, your gone. you say its business but you are just putting your business in her. you say its nothing. men have needs. what about my needs? exactly nine months pass, and you have a child, not born from my organs but from her. struggling to put this past me like i did with our first unborn child, i have no reason to stay. i have no belief in saving our marriage. but still, i stay. i am lost without you. i am lost without the person who shattered my heart into a million tiny pieces. i am lost without the person who sold me tornado lies. i lost myself to the person who crushed my soul one thousand times and without a doubt will go it again. that person is my husband.