The Next Step

He begged her to stop…
Not to leave their home…
Not to leave their marriage…
Not to leave this life, together.

But she wouldn’t stop.

There had been too much hurt.

Everything that had fit in their relationship
Now seemed skewed,
Abstract,
Cold…

At odds.

Their schedules were so different,
Their friends, different, now
As well.

Their arms,
Previously the perfect pieces
Of such a complex life puzzle,
Now…
Could not seem to find
A way to fit together.

And then the fighting began.

No rest…

No peace…

No intimacy.

Little was left for them.

She couldn’t live like this,
Anymore.

She needed her husband’s attention,
And admiration,
And love…

But he was too busy,
Or distracted,
Or disinterested,
To recognize these needs.

And so she decided to leave.

Now, as he watched her head to
Their front door,
Bags in hand,
He finally understood the imminence,
And totality of his pending loss
Of her.

But his pounding and
Pleading heart,
The tears welling up
In his eyes,
And his choking voice
Spoke to nothingness.

Neither her ears,
Nor heart,
Heard his cries for reconsideration,
And reconciliation…
He had gone too far this time,
For all time.

So with certainty,
And with tears staining her cheeks,
And his…
She moved forward to the door…

Taking the next step toward his inevitable
Truth,
Emptiness,
And pain…

And the next step toward her
Healing,
And hope for a better life.

 

© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

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