After a seven year courtship,
we were married on
Black Sunday.
She looked me in the eyes
and said:
“I Do.”
The day was cursed,
her family
wouldn’t speak with my family.
The two-tiered cake falling
during the first dance
wasn’t a good omen either.
Though she slept a lot
during the day
throughout our honeymoon,
I kept thinking
that my expectations
were too high,
and things
would get better.
Six weeks in
I discovered she
was secretly dating her
C+ programming professor
since before we got married,
and she assured me
that he was just a friend,
but also somehow mentioned
that he made $70,000 a year
to my $29,000.
On Day 141,
I left,
and she went to his place
to drink champagne,
slow dance and screw.
Five days later,
a flirtatious married coworker
who pretended to care,
offered me
sympathy and fellatio
anytime I needed it.
I was aghast,
but still heartbroken.
After weeks
of dreamless nights
crying and trembling,
I could no longer
resist.
She looked me in the eyes
and said:
“No One Will Ever Know.”
I gave in
and shot all my hate
rage and anguish,
into her sweaty
debased body
that August afternoon.
Naively,
I thought that might end it,
not realizing that she thrived
on such humiliation.
The next day
she offered herself
as my slave
to be used
defiled,
desecrated.
Finally,
my soul sent up a white flag,
and I unilaterally
ceased and desisted
from seeing her again.
She eventually
broke her promise
when she told her husband
that I tried to rape her.
So,
when I tell you I have
trust issues,
it isn’t that
I don’t know
how to trust;
I don’t know
who to trust.
we were married on
Black Sunday.
She looked me in the eyes
and said:
“I Do.”
The day was cursed,
her family
wouldn’t speak with my family.
The two-tiered cake falling
during the first dance
wasn’t a good omen either.
Though she slept a lot
during the day
throughout our honeymoon,
I kept thinking
that my expectations
were too high,
and things
would get better.
Six weeks in
I discovered she
was secretly dating her
C+ programming professor
since before we got married,
and she assured me
that he was just a friend,
but also somehow mentioned
that he made $70,000 a year
to my $29,000.
On Day 141,
I left,
and she went to his place
to drink champagne,
slow dance and screw.
Five days later,
a flirtatious married coworker
who pretended to care,
offered me
sympathy and fellatio
anytime I needed it.
I was aghast,
but still heartbroken.
After weeks
of dreamless nights
crying and trembling,
I could no longer
resist.
She looked me in the eyes
and said:
“No One Will Ever Know.”
I gave in
and shot all my hate
rage and anguish,
into her sweaty
debased body
that August afternoon.
Naively,
I thought that might end it,
not realizing that she thrived
on such humiliation.
The next day
she offered herself
as my slave
to be used
defiled,
desecrated.
Finally,
my soul sent up a white flag,
and I unilaterally
ceased and desisted
from seeing her again.
She eventually
broke her promise
when she told her husband
that I tried to rape her.
So,
when I tell you I have
trust issues,
it isn’t that
I don’t know
how to trust;
I don’t know
who to trust.
Ahh... this is so powerful and I can really relate to the ending. Did this really happen to you?
ReplyDeleteNo Doubt! those last lines clinch this piece. 'She looked into my eyes, was the line that strung through the whole poem'...Great writing. Raw honesty makes this real and gut-wrenching!
ReplyDeleteI love this Buddah! A brilliantly immoral tale of debauchery and completely soulless! Great, inventive wordplay abounds in this and the ending was killer!
ReplyDeleteCheers,
Mark
Damn! I inadvertently deleted my comment and my brain doesn't have a rewind. This is great Buddah. Soulless! Immoral! Debauched! Inventive and colorful wordplay with a killer ending.
ReplyDeleteCheers,
Mark
@Laurie - Ah, yes it did, back in 1994. Black Sunday was the Day before Valentine's Day and I left 1 day shy of Independence Day. 1994 was a tough year for me.
ReplyDelete@Janet - Thanks! The theme of not trusting women who said they loved me was to pervasive not to address.
@BarNone - thanks for the enthusiastic words! Very kind, indeed.
Phewwww. I bet you had a really rough year in many different emotional ways and can see why you would find it very difficult to trust easily again.
ReplyDeleteThank goodness you can write it all out, it helps in some ways, doesn't it?
Wow, that's a whole lot of unvarnished truth-telling, packs quite a punch. I really like your choice of words in this, it doesn't spiral into overt rage at such crappy treatment, instead I can feel it rippling through between the lines. Very well done!
ReplyDelete@daydreameroo, Amen! Thank goodness I have writing, especially since my therapist Dr. Warren retired.
ReplyDelete@Mary - thanks, the intervening 18 years have helped me get perspective. (There was so much more to this story, but that's for another day.)
damn. i can see why...and i think that is something many of us deal with...the who...because there are plenty of people out there willing to screw you...and not in a good way...
ReplyDeleteAt least two, in my case.
Deleteoh my goodness..this is a brilliant write sir.. the weakness and the needs and hopes...sometimes we wear so many glasses...don't we..
ReplyDeleteThanks. All that anguish had to be good for something!
DeleteHoly s**t hitting the fan, Batman! Enjoyed your humor - you are describing what happens to many. Hope you've also had some good relationships. First time visitor, but I think you've snagged another fan! But then my 'real' last name ends with 'witz' too even if I married into it. Having some witz is better than none at all!
ReplyDeleteThanks so much! I can't believe other people are as stupid as I was. Yes, come back again and read more hilarity in my past.
Deletewow no wonder you don't know who to trust, what a story! I appreciate your honesty here!
ReplyDeleteWell, I know who to trust now. Thankfully. (It's a small list.)
DeleteI was hoping this was poetic license--trust once lost is almost impossible to find in the same ways, and growing new ones takes years--you nail this sorry place in too many lives that remains blighted long after the agent that brought the plague is gone.
ReplyDeleteNo poetic license at all. Pure reportage. As I've said before, "I'm not a poet. I'm a documentarian and I'm my own favorite subject."
DeleteA strong and honest write....I do understand why the trust issues. It is definitely rotten to be deceived in such ways. I admire the gut-level quality of this poem.
ReplyDeleteThank you - I did a lot of learning that year, and yet still, I didn't fully grow up. That came much later.
Deleteno wonder... mighty fine write... and quite juicy.
ReplyDeleteThanks! I rarely hear juicy in reference to my poems!
DeleteThat must have been a tough year--great write though---whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger or some such saying--
ReplyDeleteYes, 1994 was a tough year for me and OJ (and Ron and Nicole too). Thank God some of us wised up. Thanks for the kind words.
Deletewow. now that is raw and real! good stuff here! hate to say that I am so much closer to this persona than anyone may realize. trust issues, bleh! I just don't. (for the most part) I so feel this.
ReplyDeleteps...I blew out the unity candle at my wedding. yea.
Thanks for the kind words.
ReplyDeleteYes, trusting people is the challenge. Thankfully, I'm now married to the best person I've ever known, so trusting her is easy.
Yea, I love the symbolism of the unity candle.
this is brilliant - i had a greta time :)
ReplyDeleteThanks! And her name wasn't Greta, it was Kim.
Deletelol....I don't think I've ever known a "kim" or "greta" that could be trusted...
Deleter.m. @ newviewfromhere.wordpress.com
Powerful stuff, Mosk. Those last lines, especially.
ReplyDeleteThanks, De. I wasn't sure where this was going when I was writing it, and it was a damned sad realization when I figured it out.
DeleteOh, man. I've been there. The words, they've got minds o' their own. This is a brilliant piece, though. Raw, real and really, really good.
DeleteI too hoped it was just poetics but since it really happened to you, I can understand your trust issues. This is well written as is the case when you personally experience the heartache and turmoil ~
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing this ~
The old saw is that Tragedy+Time=Comedy. I think this still needs a few more years before it's a yukfest.
DeleteThanks for your kind words.
Outstanding write sir.
ReplyDeleteGeez, women can be as awful as men. Good poetry fodder, though. Glad things are better now.
ReplyDeleteAt that point in life I was trying to get new/unusual experiences to write about. I got 'em in spades since.
DeleteI've got screwed many a time without even knowing it, so it wasn't even the fun way..lol...so yep, the who is definitely the question, trust is a fickle thing, once it is gone it is gone. Such a crappy experience.
ReplyDeleteIt fun for a few seconds, that's all. After hearing this tale my therapist at the time said "I hope the orgasm was worth it."
Deletethat is always the hardest part, the who, funny how we can think we know someone. sorry that you had to go through all this to get to this place. but you have turned it into powerful poetry here. and that is worth something.
ReplyDeleteLemons into lemonade, I say! Thanks!
DeleteAn excellent write Mosk ... as raw as it is authentic - well done.
ReplyDeletehttp://thepoet-tree-house.blogspot.com/2012/03/fog-at-dusk-is-crowded.html
If you think this is raw, you should've heard me when I found out she told her husband I raped her. Talk about raw! Yeeouch! Thanks.
DeleteYikes...Betrayal molted. Betrayal by another and by self. A brave write...hooked me and still thinking about it..and it hurts.
ReplyDeleteBetrayal+horniness-critical thinking=self-imposed hell. I really thought I could outrun the consequences of my actions! Don't try! Thanks.
DeleteWow. This is a slow-moving, numbingly awful train wreck - glad you survived, Mosk. Thanks for having enough trust in the muse to get this one out!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Andrew. Yes, 1994 was a rough year. It finally ended when I got a restraining order from her cuckolded husband on December 15th. Ah, memories! C'est la vie, ...when you're a stupidhead!:)
ReplyDeleteLay it on the line and throw it down. This does all that and more. I don't know how much of this is true as personal statement, nor I do think it really matters since its truthfulness comes from the directness of description and matter of fact truth telling that presents readers with the semblance of truth. It just could be so. I really admire the way you end this, since trust is the ultimate issue in any relationship worth its weight in salt. Strong strong poem.
ReplyDeleteThanks Charles,
DeleteAnd yes, it was all true. I don't have such a great imagination. I'm basically a documentarian.
And my friends say I'm too trusting! Great write; I was glued till the tidy end.
ReplyDeleteI don't have too many friends, once again - trust issues. Thanks for the kind words.- Mosk
DeleteSee, this confessional style has a definite appeal, I can't help using it when I write, it's just the way I write, but it captivates your readers.
ReplyDeleteHip-hip, kudos or high fives, whichever works for you ;)
I really enjoyed this piece...peace~
Ouch.
ReplyDeleteEspecially the 'who.'
:(