Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

My mind is in crisis over the card I received this morning

The lies, the silence, his friends cover for him

I remember hearing whispered conversation

Realising now that the person who sent the card

Wants me to know my husband is having an affair

Is it the woman herself who wants me to know?

I resign myself to the fact

Truth melts away under scrutiny

The late nights make sense now

The lame excuses, the strange scent

Lingering on his clothes

His excuse for that, laughable

It’s like a thunderstorm hitting me all at once

Am I grateful for the unknown author?

Ripping the scales from my eyes

After twenty-three years of marriage

Now I feel only disgust at myself, my ignorance

Lit by a postcard, delivered by an unknown hand

Why did they want me to know?

Not a friend, they would have come up and told me straight

One thought came to mind, was it

Someone he’s past over for this current lover

How long, how many?

I don’t think I’ll stick around to find out…

©anitadawes