I was hoping this would get better. I was hoping for some kind of help or improvement.
This went on for years.
Tonight, I gave up for the last time.
This isn’t some kind of prima donna histrionics.
This is just a final failure of trust.
This is a kind of death. I can’t trust him any more. It’s gone on too long.
And here’s the poem. It’s just history now.
But it’s a good poem. I like this poem. I can find some love in it. But, oh, god. Why do people have to give up on each other? Why is love so often considered irrelevant?
I HATE having to do this, but it’s on the plate.