Guilty

The “ I've never had anything
near as horrible
as her rape” guilt
kept me in a
doomed relationship.

The “wanting to leave”guilt
kept me there
twice as long
as I should have.

The “I want someone else” guilt
made me secretive
and conspiratorial.

The “I’m having an affair”
guilt led me to crying jags
in my car at the far end
of the Target parking lot.

The “I can’t leave
my primary relationship,
but I also can’t commit
to my paramour and
that’s preventing her
from finding true love” guilt
helped me let her go.

The “I’m trying to be a good
repentant partner but failing
miserably at it” guilt dragged on.

The “I can’t believe I’m starting
another affair” guilt crept
into my life.

The “this new woman
deserves better than being
the other woman” guilt
jolted me into decisiveness.

The “pretending to go into
couples’ therapy as a ruse
to break up with her” guilt
played out.

The “she went through
my things and found all
the evidence of
my scarlet adultery” guilt
baptized me in shame.

The “Yes, I admit
I did you wrong
and I’m a scumbag
confession” guilt monologue
tumbled out of me.

She sent me the
“this is not personal,
but I need $1,000
for house repairs
because I didn’t have
any warning
that you were planning
on leaving me...”
guilt invoice,

which I remitted
in two payments
of $500 each,
thinking I’d be free.

12 years later,
the guilt still remains.

[Posted for #OpenLinkNight at dversepoets.com - come on along and bleed a little poetry along with us!]