Blame
I am suspicious of the image sharing my sheets, and weary of the actions taunting me as I stag in stealth apparel to confront reality.
I am cautious of drifting words as he speaks his love to me, abandoning years of energy consumes me; for I fear of loosing the family I helped conceive.
I taste stains of frustration speckled to dry checks. It burrows into the bowel of my soul and strips me of the love I speak.
My muscles ache of a heartache and the more I stare at you it brakes, I blister pains of what loneliness has claimed; sadly, I am only to blame.
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