The Sadists Revenge

I hate you.

Not for what you've done to me. Our family. Who knows how many other women?

I hate what you have decided to become. 
The house we would build together.
The old age stares and The life well lived.
Wasted.

For transactional sex acts and Charles Bukowski.

Deliberately.

Why?
She asked you to stay forever.
And all you gave was silence.

Now--

I don't want the rage to build. Or take over. I don't want to feel justified.
Or shake my head, shrug my shoulders.
Or even watch you get better without us.

How dare you--

I want to cry over your corpse. And scream. Tear my hair and be dragged from the spot. Pound on your empty chest and finally feel like I was resonating in your heart.

I want the world to see me torn up over your failures as a person. And I want that viewing to be profound. 

Fuck everyone that believes your lies. You kept me like a secret. Conducted an investigation and trial in which I had no voice. 

Why?

All the hope I had in you.

Was a lie I told to myself.