Love, lust & loneliness

 

Words cannot express my anger, infuriation and shame at the moment. I thought those three little words were to save a man--not condemn him. Instead I find myself nursing a thousand cuts and bruises, a thousand nicks and whips to my heart and trying to piece together a thousand pieces of what once was my adamant ego. My wife is a ruthless blood hound in the guise of a charming spaniel, and the faintest trace or smell of lipstick on my sleeve is enough to conjure a horde of demons. In her eyes that brimmed of fire I saw the entire army of hell at once; on her lips that once kissed mine so ardently, the promise of poison and malice to come. Her nails came at me like knives, her yells deafened silence, her words were sweet and sharp, much like the sting of a rose thorn, instantly drawing blood. For once I am able to truly witness the fury of a woman scorned and by God I wish she would have shot me instead.

If I were God and I had a choice,
I would of created it so women did not have such mouths
But that would defeat the purpose of blow-jobs.