I wanted to write a story of woe
Where love rides the storm, through the rough and the low
Let’s make it dramatic, man plays away
And I’ll set this scene on a hot, summer’s day.
As the sun shines bright, the lovers drink tea
Her fear steps up “what the hell’s wrong with me?”
“It’s been many weeks since you last kissed my head
You’d do this each night as we’d cuddle in bed”
He scoffed and he shuffled, as how could he say
To confess that he no longer saw her that way.
You see he’d found love with somebody new
His wife, once she’d heard, would be broken in two.
Let’s move to the kitchen; he tells her the news
“I’m sorry my love, you’re no longer my muse”
“I gave you my life!” Her heartbreak pours out
“You’re a low life, disease ridden, scaly trout!”
They fought for two hours, then three and then four
They ignored concerned neighbours who’d knock at the door
Her fury ran deep, taking charge of her wheel
She’s out for his blood for her life he did steal.
“You wouldn’t bloody dare!” he screamed to his wife
His whole body shaking, his face to her knife
“I’ll kill you, I will”
She said with a shrill
“I’ll fry up your eyes
And cut flesh from your thighs”
She screamed and she cursed as he ran to the door
He prayed on his knees, “I can’t take anymore”
But then neither could she as her wits were at end
For what was left, nothing worthy to mend.
With one swift pound,
He fell to the ground
He pleaded, “Just wait”
Please, tell me my fate?”
His pallor was grey as his eyes stared at me.
Should I write his escape, ‘ this rat, he breaks free’?
See, I mean not to kill this cheating man
I’d made no intention; death wasn’t my plan.
Yet now I was wishing his blood on the floor
He feels the pain I can’t take anymore
To watch blood drain from his cold, lifeless heart
So he’d nothing to give to his muse, to his tart.
But the blame was neither on her nor him
The pain that I felt rose from someplace within
So that day l left his heart pumping strong
And I packed my bags to move swiftly on.
For the story I write was the old tale of me
I was the wife, the Mrs, the her, the she.
But that day something died and those labels died too
So my story starts here as I write something new.
