Poem: She Chose Him

When They ask me what happened
I'll say,
"I was too old for her."
They may not believe me,
but that is the way I'll say it.
She believed in things
I'm too old to believe in,
I've just seen the Truth too many times.
When it came down to it,
I asked her to choose;
her old way of thinking or me.
Unsurprisingly, like most of us would,
she held to her old ways,
resenting me for claiming
to know something she didn't.
Viciously guarding and defending
her lie,
and if passion alone made Truth,
then she may have been right.
But she wasn't.

It may take some time.
The Pride of the Young is Infallible.
We all must fall on our own sword,
muddied and bloodied,
Over and Over
until we get it.

She chose him.

It should hurt more than it does,
but she always chose him,
so it doesn't come
as much of a surprise.

Relief more than anything else,
for now.
The silent, dark, undercurrent
of the infidelity has been present
for weeks,
with me unknowing,
unable to put my finger on it.
Subconsciously strangling.

Exposed to the light
the World shifts back into focus
Everything clearer,
shutters thrown open.

A new day dawns,
she's with him now.

And I am back with me.
All honesty, all the time.