Killing with Kindness

Killing with Kindness

He was a perfect husband.
Everyone agreed.
Attentive and affectionate
attuned to every need.
I'd mutely smile and acquiesce,
for how were they to know
that he was killing me with kindness.
I prayed it didn't show.

He'll be a wonderful father!
I'd laugh and nod my head.
But by the time our son was born
we slept in seperate beds.
In front of friends and family
we were an ideal pair.
But he was killing me with a kindness
that I could hardly bear.

I was not a naive child
when I agreed to be his wife.
He told me that he loved me then,
he said he loved our life.
But what he never told me
was of his need for men.
He just kept killing me with kindness,
treating me like a friend.

My scalded shame I held within.
What if the fault were mine?
Afraid to go, I chose to stay
inside our house of lies.
I could not guess with what willingness
I played the unknowing fool.
While he was killing me with kindness,
shriveling my soul.

The night I found those magazines
the world cracked wide apart.
I knew this was the reason
for his cold, indifferent heart.
They all were shocked by our divorce.
How had this come to be?
He was killing me with kindness,
and it was killing me.