Broken

"It is not you but me," he said as he patted the top of my head. He walked by like this bit of news was supposed to comfort me. As he leaves the room I study myself in the mirror. I knew I was more critical of myself than anybody ever could be. Searching my green eyes for what is wrong with me? A tear streams down my pale cheek. After three children one could hardly tell I was ever pregnant. Tall at about 5'7", still fit in a size zero jean. Maybe I'm too boyish. I never have to try for my weight, can eat what I want, and do, to the riddicule of most women in passing. My hair is long and brown, maybe it looks like mud. He used to be so passionate with me. I must say our sex used to be legend. I used to giggle at the thought of us filming on air. Much too shy for that. What was I lacking now?? We have come so far together. His affairs, our split. I blew through men in a rage, like a tornado affraid to touch the ground when I thought him lost. Yet here we are. Not even a year back together his flame for me dead again. "Not me my ***", I scream to the reflection staring back. Waiting for the glass to break into a thousand pieces. That would reflect how I felt each day. Broken, lost, a heap of nothingless. Not even a woman. 9-10-12
LadyKoonce LadyKoonce
31-35, F
Sep 10, 2012