I can’t always feel the sun shine during his thunderous reign.
I carry the guilty burdens in bags with tags bearing his name.
He wants me. He doesn’t love me.
I’m mostly a prize to gain.
Tempers’ flare yet he convinces me that I’m the one who is to blame.
He doesn’t want to hurt me, really, it’s just his anger towards his shame.
But 3 years of violence takes it toll as I’m the one needing to walk with a cane.
And there’s no point trying to reason when he’s raging, going absolutely insane.
I wish I could take his hurt away so that I do not have to feel this pain.
And I’m sorry that my son has the displeasure of being his son, if only in name.
Yet, he’s so sweet when he’s acting sane.
And when he’s acting sweet,
I have absolutely no reason to complain.
He tells me he’s doing one thing yet does another.
He’s as much of a sex pest as he is passionate lover.
But he keeps his emotions wrapped tightly, under the covers.
Like I could be his wife, friend, foe or even his mother.
But to be honest, I’m not quite sure why I bother.
I love him… But… I don’t want him.
Wish I could wife swap with a-another.
“… But like many a gentlemen I have suppressed my true feelings.”