I trusted you to pay the bills,
until I received those pointed calls;
found them hidden, of course,
in out of the way places,
away from prying eyes
and your surreptitious faces.
I listened to the constant stream
Of lies and excuses and deceit
All the time asking why me? Why me?
How could you say you loved
Then steal from me (in oh, so many ways),
your heart lost to the next win
and a poker machine glaze.
You had open access to all of me.
You screwed it up, threw it all away
as if it were nothing more
than crumpled newspaper:
yesterday’s news and leftover food,
eviscerated heart and dreams,
your doormat fool.
Now, you choose to forget
the things you did (conveniently)
casting a veil as far as you can see,
pretending it was always happy families.
I could put up with stealing,
heartbreak, pain, lies, contempt.
But once the trust was gone,
there was nothing left.
My first wife was a compulsive gambler. It was not a pleasant time in my life, and is not fondly remembered. But it is remembered, by me, at least.
For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.
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