Mrs In Bed At Nine

Mrs In-Bed-At-Nine

When you eventually came home that fateful morning,
I had convinced myself that you would not come back.
Had envisioned a desperate, not so grand finale,
Where you my love, as I had always known you,
Were somewhere lost forever, far away from home.

But finally you did return, as your guilty flush portrayed,
To me with my hands brim full of shattered dreams,
And as you tumbled out words in pointless explanation,
You overlooked that I'd had no doubts,
Until the dreadful truth betrayed you there upon your pouting lips.

Mrs in-bed-at-nine had stayed out until morning,
Convinced by her lust and her lover that I would just sleep.
Oblivious and cold to my hopeless all-night vigil,
Against the demons I believed had spirited you away,
You and the devil got busy painting our futures black.
 
I later watched your restless body so intently,
As you drifted off towards your sin-filled dreams.
I was content to be the second choice that evening.
But as reality slowly dawned that dreadful morning,
I knew it was your body not your soul that laid with me.

By ignoring his stench, invading all my private places,
The tell-tale signs of passion and the glow upon your skin.
I would allow those marks to stain us both, but not today.
So instead of ending the charade, this cruel act of treason,
I chose instead to hold you tightly one last time.

Neil Marsden