My wife. GOD do I love her, but fear my love is not reciprocated. My deepest horror is that the love of my life is simply content with my companionship. I wish she would show me the love she professes. I don't know if she is going through the changes of life or that she sees me as a comfort to have around. I hope it is the former. I could not imagine myself without her. I cannot seem to convince her of my affection. She is an enigma. A riddle worthy of the most educated mind to solve. I am afraid I have not the capacity for equating this puzzle set before me. Where the rest of my life has had changes this one aspect of my life is static. I feel a nagging, pulling, twisting concern in the pits of myself that one day my wife will leave me. To think so stings my eyes and makes my heart weep. The saddened reality of it all is that is it is probably true. If this does happen it will indeed be the darkest day in a life that has has it's share of blackness. Don't get me wrong. My life has had generous helpings of light. Bright and full. Shining with the brilliance of one thousand suns. Yet, somehow, despite the joy, there seems to be a hole in my life. One that cannot be filled by anything else other than a lover's pleasure. With a heavy heart I admit defeat. I walk shamefully away from love's ruthless battlefield battered and bruised by no more than a whispering of doubt. To my true love do I yield. To my inamorata do the spoils go.
To my wife do I fall.
No comments:
Post a Comment