Wife's Wrath

I sit silently.
As you noisily pack your bags.
As you spit words at me.
About my superiority.
And my selfishness.
I say nothing. And listen to your contempt.
As you say, you’re done.
You say you want to leave.
Dropping the D word like venom from your careless mouth.

I am silent.
But my blood is boiling.
I am indignant.
Furious with rage.
Too angry to speak.
In case wrath and flames escape my lips.
And incinerates everything around me.
Including all that I love
Including you.

You want to leave?
Please.
Exit left.
You want to be done.
Please.
Don’t do me any favors.
Be. Done. 

You suddenly decide, you're sorry.
I'm sick of empty words. 
Followed up by the same old inaction.
Complacency.
You cannot console me.
You only fan the flames of my fury.
With your lackluster efforts
And weak resolve.
Please.
GTFOH.
With that mess.

Step up.
Or step out.
Do not waste my time.
If you are done.
I will not beg you to stay.
I will not coddle and bend.
So you can feel enough.
What did you say, “you’ve had enough?”
Ok. Enough!
Those are your words. Not mine.
And I might forgive you one day. 
But I'll never forget how easily they slipped from your tongue. 
When things got too hard.

I ask.
Help me.
Carry this with me.
Love me.
In the ways you know I need.
I deserve.
In the ways I have done for you.
Which you’ve grown to feel entitled to.
So much so that when I withdraw.
The swiftness of your defensiveness, hurts 
The ease with which you blame me, cuts me
I am sick to death of talking
It's like I'm speaking in tongues.
Always misunderstood.

Instead you want to give up.
You want to pack shit, and spit words at me?
You want to leave?

Please.

Get out.
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