The Confrontation

 

The slap across his face leaves his ears ringing, his cheek stinging.

How could you? Her voice coarse, her heart worse.

He stands as stone, his memory tracing, mind racing.

She stands in disbelief, vision blurring, emotions stirring.

His eyes grow distant, his heart hardening, excuses starting.

 

The Mistress appears, her arrogance flowing, cleavage showing,

offering excuses for the Husband’s adulterous goings.

You conniving whore! Her anger calling, her fists balling.

 

As the Mistress speaks…

The Wife’s fury peaks…

The Husband freaks…

The Wife’s body leaps…

 

The punch to her jaw left her body limp, her eyes dipped.

The Wife stands over the Mistress, smiling a bit… Take that, bitch!

The Husband steps to her defense, lacking any common sense:

Thinking he can weasel his way out with some futile penance.

 

You cheating bastard! Her teeth grinding, her jaw tightening.

Back he shrinks, he can’t think.

As he is ripped to shreds, his ego sinks.

 

The Husband’s lies left no room for compromise…

The Mistress’s demise: a right cross catching her by surprise…

The Wife is riding a high, her actions justified….

 

Now, she dries her eyes as the hurt subsides.

She sheds the disguise of her Husband’s bride,

takes determined strides against the swelling tides.

 

As her marriage divides and resolution shows outside,

she’s left to assemble the tattered pieces broken inside.

 

In the mirror, she sighs…

Denies the lies…

And applies the advice:

You are much better than the situation implies

 

And…

 

With patience and time, her spirits will rise.

She will take to the skies as she starts to realize:

 

That she is…

And will always be…

 

A treasured prize.

 


Copyright © 2013 Andrew Hildreth

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About HandHeldWriter

Fiction writer. Vinyl collector. Coffee drinker. Book reader. Music lover. Neat freak. Bookworm. Introvert. Thinker. Poet. ISTJ. View all posts by HandHeldWriter

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