Adultery | Gelflings At Play

Author: Molli
Wednesday 23rd July 2008 at 8:04 pm
Category: Love, Poetry, Relationships

Tags: her, me, us, you

You accuse me of theft.
How can one steal what was given?
Call me home wrecker; say I took a battering ram
to the fortress of your love, smashed the windows,
snuck off with your valuables
while you slept.
The only true thing there is, yes, you were asleep
and while you had your eyes closed
he opened the door

crammed diamonds and rubies into my soul,
gave pre-Raphaelite light
to my eyes,
filled my senses full of honey,
offered up Rilke to my ears,
Chopin to my body,
Neruda to my heart.

Say I shattered your trust.
He broke it long before my arrival on the scene.
I showed up and the tables were overturned,
the drawers emptied out and strewn across the room
as though at a market bazaar.
His heart, soul and mind were on display amongst the treasures.
No price tags. He was giving them away
and his mouth was a smiling, wide
open
door.

I stole nothing.

He was given.

4:30pm Saturday
12.November.2005

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