Identity Crisis

It's complicated The way she looks at him Not the way it used to be When he had held her gaze She had expected to love him all of her days Had walked around in that lover's daze Not aware of his cheating ways His hiding and deception An unskilled master of self protection She discovered the reason for the alienation of his affection All the small clues that led to his detection Making her doubt herself Not wanting to believe his indescretion It was easier imagining relational perfection Without him she thinks she has no life Her identity tied to being his wife Yet now she wishes imagines Gutting him with a knife much better being a widow Than a cheaters wife So she looks at him with piercing eyes Imagines the other woman's thighs And the part of him she use to make rise In this moment she begins to realize He's not much of a prize Still deep down she hopes the bastard dies!