A Poem with no Title

Last night, we happened. Again
The result of my failed resolutions and his empty promises,
We were above this, or so I thought.
Until, he touched me
and I, him.
I became a babbling toddler, who could not form words.
The protests in my mind not quite making it to my lips.

And so our dance began,
Rhythmically and in synchrony,
Our hearts beating as one,
Our souls merging together again,
Then the music fades,
and with it my self-esteem takes another dive.

The ending is always the same,
We were actors in a scripted play,
And like clockwork we knew our roles,
He would beg for more,
His resolve dying slowly as his passion smouldered.
I would turn away in search of clothing hastily discarded,
Determined not to cross the line.

It is daybreak.
Time to get out,
Before the cock crows and neighbours begin to stir,
There would be no romantic goodbyes or tender hugs
It would be me doing the walk

The epic walk of shame that tells a thousand tales;
Of hearts broken,
Minds destroyed,
And paths better left uncrossed.
Head bowed, shoulders stooped,
Hoping no one would see through my pain.

Then I remember Him,
Him who I have failed a thousand times,
And who sees it all
I hear His voice now,
Asking for my hand,
And willing me to take His,
And into his blood I go,
Until every last sin is washed away
Then, like a phoenix I will rise from the ashes of pain and guilt
Reclaiming my lost glory and becoming the bride that I was made to be.
Yes, I will rise!

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