infidelity

I play your anger back to me at night,

those words you said, with or without intent.

For passion meets in love and hate, not white

but grey in shades, and tough to understand 

these sentences, harsh in their accusation

to prove my guilt bleeding like love bite roses

along my neck, which, without hesitation

you gave me, when you swore me faithfulness

and now pursue this aimless path of doubt, 

that sulks in silence, in a morbid way.

I duck it as to sink or swim, don’t shout

and wait in patience as if to delay

the final act, that gives your game away,

when you admit your wife has found you out.