I Need to Talk to Someone
I need to know, Am I as vile and cruel as she says. Do I do the terrible things as accused? Or does she see just a reflection of how she feels?
I know deep down what must happen. I must take the blame and end this agony. There is no love, no concern or care toward this battered man. The years have been filled with happiness and fights. No action suits her and I'm no longer sure if I'm a good man at my core.
Every button is known and pushed, every flaw is filled with salt, every error and sin is shown as proof of my crime. Yet every kind act is disregarded as not hard enough. I am filled with doubt of what I am and am angry at myself for all the pain.
Yes I know that talking is good, to work through problems with another persons eyes and ears adding their perspective. Yet there is no one to speak to today. I'll dwell and think upon the options and when she returns from where ever she has gone, perhaps the end will be closer.
Talking might have avoided this ten long years ago. But for all my failings, I know that it takes two to make it work. I am so weary of hearing how I feel, and when I express what lies in my heart to simply be ignored or rejected as a lie.
To have a friend who'd listen and understand that I don't want to blame her, I just want to be loved. I am afraid that love has passed me by for this life. I must be a hard man to live with of that I'm sure. Yet if it is true that in marriage and family it is only failure that I leave, then perhaps I'm am a bit of what she sees.
No one shall listen and but a few shall ready these words and that is probably for the best. If I am what she claims, no one else should be near. If I am not, then certainly I'm no saint, but life may offer some peace down the road.
If only I could live without this heart. Then I'd not desire to talk to a friend.
I know deep down what must happen. I must take the blame and end this agony. There is no love, no concern or care toward this battered man. The years have been filled with happiness and fights. No action suits her and I'm no longer sure if I'm a good man at my core.
Every button is known and pushed, every flaw is filled with salt, every error and sin is shown as proof of my crime. Yet every kind act is disregarded as not hard enough. I am filled with doubt of what I am and am angry at myself for all the pain.
Yes I know that talking is good, to work through problems with another persons eyes and ears adding their perspective. Yet there is no one to speak to today. I'll dwell and think upon the options and when she returns from where ever she has gone, perhaps the end will be closer.
Talking might have avoided this ten long years ago. But for all my failings, I know that it takes two to make it work. I am so weary of hearing how I feel, and when I express what lies in my heart to simply be ignored or rejected as a lie.
To have a friend who'd listen and understand that I don't want to blame her, I just want to be loved. I am afraid that love has passed me by for this life. I must be a hard man to live with of that I'm sure. Yet if it is true that in marriage and family it is only failure that I leave, then perhaps I'm am a bit of what she sees.
No one shall listen and but a few shall ready these words and that is probably for the best. If I am what she claims, no one else should be near. If I am not, then certainly I'm no saint, but life may offer some peace down the road.
If only I could live without this heart. Then I'd not desire to talk to a friend.
61-69, M
