Scab

A poem from 2017

Forty years ago my husband left me

It didn't happen out of the blue

I thought I was marrying a devout man

A faithful man

He talked the talk

But true colours will come out in the wash

Twenty three affairs he had

That I know of

When I went out to church

He was at it

When I went out to work

He was at it

My cousin

My best friend

My boss

Some randoms

Most of the time he didn't leave but when he did

I always had him back

Dependable me

Manipulatable me

But one time he didn't come back

I was defeated

This was the end

This was with another best friend

I didn't eat for days

At the fireplace I'd just gaze

Empty

Yet sick in my stomach

We divorced

And he denied his affairs

He wouldn't accept he was at fault

And I cannot forget

I threw myself into work

And charity

And helping others

And the pain would not go away

And every chance I get

I tell people the whole story

Even if I've told them a dozen times before

I can talk about it for an hour or more

Without pausing

I want to be loved

I want acceptance

I want to remain a victim

I want to cry

I want to be a strong woman

I want to be admired for my fortitude

I pick the scab

It cannot heal

I get comfort from knowing it wasn't me

The comfort hurts so much

So so much