MY HUSBAND’S WHORE

Young, blonde, blue-eyed, attractive,
Sweet-natured.
Everything a man could possibly want.
She’s beautiful; I won’t deny him that.

He hasn’t said a word about her –
Why would he? He never does –
But I could tell straight away.
He was acting strangely, almost too happy.
I didn’t want to believe it at first.
I thought he was simply enjoying life.
I questioned him about it and he became
Uncomfortable, even angry,
Then he said those words –

“I just need some space.”

Translation: I’m having an affair.

It’s happened before –
I know what to do now.
I’m past tears and tantrums.
After all, it’s only a simple
Problem to fix.

I’ve never really known his other whores,
But I’ve met this one.
How? It was an accident.
I was never meant to meet her
Or even know of her existence.
She had driven him home from ‘work’,
Because he didn’t like to take the car
And she thought she’d give him a lift.
I came out to meet her.

I knew it was her right away –
The way he looked at her,
The way they spoke to each other,
The way her eyes fluttered when they met
Each other’s gazes,
As though she simply couldn’t resist him.
I used to do that.

I see her for what she truly is –
A cheap, vulgar slut,
Like the others.
He doesn’t see her that way.
He never sees them that way.
He thinks she’s in love with him and
He thinks I don’t suspect.
He thinks he’s in love with her, too,
Just as he was once in love with me.

She’s here, now.
In my house.
In my bedroom.
In my bed.
Waiting for him.

I stand in the doorway,
Watching her with envy:
She’s a symbol of what I once was to him,
And will be again, very soon.

She hasn’t noticed me,
Not yet.
She’s lying there, naked,
Perfect,
On my bed,
The white sheets all around her,
Waiting for my husband.

Her hair spills around her perfect body,
And in her hand a rose –
A red one, with a white bow.
Just like the ones he used to give me,
Before he became bored,
Fed up with my body,
No secrets left to discover.

She is a whole new mystery to him,
An adventure,
Something different, something exciting.

But not for much longer.

He’s mine.

Mine alone.

He’s my husband, not hers.

He will find his way back to me,
Just as he did after the others.

The soft clicking of the pistol
Makes her look up.
And the last thing she will ever see
Will be the barrel of the gun,

Just like the other six.