By Stanley Collymore
I regularly lied to and routinely as well cheated on
you; cruelly betrayed the unstinting trust you’d
so explicitly placed in me because I knew it
could be easily done, and besides I’d
arrogantly and egotistically convinced
myself that I was God’s gift to men
and therefore making out with
them was the most natural
thing for me to do.
Quite assured in myself that if any
gossipmongers were to apprise
you of what was going on I could
boldly look you in the eyes with faked
offence, tearfully despise what they were
saying and pointedly demand of you: “Who
do you believe, me your wife or them?”
Already fully aware of what your
reply would be, because of the
trust that you’d so faithfully
placed in me.
But in conducting myself in this entirely
self-centred and rather appalling way
I hadn’t reckoned on the vengeful
retaliation of Fate: patiently
standing in the wings
and surveying it all;
then having witnessed more than
enough of this intentional deceit
that I’d played out on you and
quite naturally appalled by
it decided to step in.
Calculatedly arranging while I was
in the throes of making love to you,
bodily there in bed beside you
but passion-wise psychologically
elsewhere, for me to inadvertently call
out the name of one of my many lovers.
A name that you were very familiar
with and unsurprisingly so, for it
was dishonourably that of your
sibling and younger brother.
© Stanley V.Collymore
18 April 2013.