Me, My Wife, and the Other Guy
We sat at a table, the three of us,
Me, my wife, and the other guy,
Conversation flowed for awhile,
But neither could look me in the eye.
The place I sat was bypassed,
As words zipped and darted,
Like little birds flying to nests.
From time to time they would
Stop to consider and take a rest.
Both were annoyed that I remained,
And could find nothing else to do.
Joining in was out of the question,
Therefore I could do nothing but stew.
Her eyes bubbled over with images of him,
While his eyes were hooded and cold.
He wanted to do more than talk,
He waited to be reckless and bold.
Calmly I lifted my empty glass
And pretended to take a sip of my juice.
One false word, one slight misstep,
And surely all hell would break loose.
I studied the two in their interlocking worlds,
And decided I didn’t want to be there.
Fifteen years of married bliss,
And now she no longer cared.
Out the door and into the night,
Although I had no real place to go,
My heart was aching, my marriage breaking,
Life had dealt me a terrible blow.
With each heavy step from my house,
I reassured my shredded heart.
The future was cloudy and unknown,
But it was time for a brand new start.
I contained my anger and let it go
Without even raising my voice,
They had each other and I walked away.
For me it was the wisest choice.
- Single People Are Not the Enemy (singlewhitechristian.wordpress.com)
- My Wife, My Friend, My Help Mate…My Love | What Men Tend To Forget… (davidboozer.com)