Pseudo

"using verbal warheads
Wash, rinse, repeat"

Oh yes indeed, this is the thing then, isn't it?
You have given us a  war poem of emotions
to deal with and your words, are, as I have
come to expect from you, right-on and kick-ass.
I love your poetry. You have class even as you
brush up with the underworld of dangerous
pursuits . . .

woooo.some deep bizness spilled here Rain..heavy vibe indeed!!!..short but to the point

Yowza! Holy Rain.. That's tough. That why infidelity is just never worth it. The lies are such stress to all three involved...no amount of bleaching removes that stain. My husband, a best friend, and awesone guy, and i live separated because of my adultery. Horrible remorse and lesson learned. You took me back. Great piece, felt a chilll. From it..

Much respect
Jennifer

Infidelity leaves wounds that may never heal and might taint a relationship for keeps.  The deception (maybe the "pseudo" of your title?) can never be forgotten, only forgiven if that.

" Misguided
into vexation
forced
to assume a
fabricated deception
soon.... "

This sounds like shattered trust, the discovery of betrayal.  Fine wording in a write that's the real thing, nothing pseudo about it.  Excellent.

Awesome flow! very powerful
n FELT deep emotions...
though a uneasy subject, the presentation was exceptional.

stirring deep waters [&] deeper emotions with this one, lady rain. makes me think of cigarette burns on bed linens; can't clean it or fix it so you just gotta toss it out with the bins on a monday morning....  
"Wash, rinse, repeat
until no amount of
bleached promises
can wash away
Stained infidelity"
^^^^^
painful emotions, beautifully written
xoxox

Amazing rhythmic word play that really unravels the depth of the concept. Brilliant to say the least

Stained infidelity  
straining future reality
lost in the blood of....
Love’s bigotry    
 
Brilliant! Just damn brilliant!

Wars in love are not so different from wars between nations, but there are no more troops to call into battle. Once that battles have ended, who is left to clean the blood from the killing field? Who will be the one to add up the counts of treason or account for acts of deception? Are the ones left standing victors or victims of all that's spoiled? Perhaps it is better to take cover alone and never know love at all...
JJ

Deception creeps out sooner or later and once the heart is burned by this acid it never fully heals again. Very emotional poem Rain well done and the picture is beautiful as usual..

"Wash, rinse, repeat 
until no amount of 
bleached promises 
can wash away 
Stained infidelity   
straining future reality 
lost in the blood of.... 
Love’s bigotry "

Your words are so personal to me. I think infidelity Is the be all, end all. Some people can recover, but it would be hard for me. If we can't be honest with each other, then I would have a hard time believing the simplist thing that comes out of his mouth.  I want to spoil my man, not be suspicious.

Love your voice here mamacita.

I have spent much time mulling over this potent write.   Do we not learn even from the worst experiences. With this logic we should be able to be wiser and strengthen our grip on reality. The acid that regurgitates is the taste of wisdom suppressed. Rinse wash repeat is the reminder of no change,  if you pick up the same dirty laundry and place it upon the same condition that stained it to begin with..... Dirt will no dought never wash away, only promise change. See you have my mind chewing on thoughts, a true mark of a great writer

Thank you beautiful poets for ink support of this poem. :)  
I should have added a disclaimer to rule out possibilities of this ink being about me or someone I love. (That’s the one thing about poetry, those who read you make innocent assumptions that everything you write is personal excerpts from your heart’s diary, when in fact it’s just  the poet’s imagination running wild.) The muse of this ink was the movie “Addicted”, by Zane, one of my all-time favorite erotic -authors. If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s about a married woman not being sexually satisfied by her husband so she has an affair. Betrayal comes to the light and her husband leaves and takes the kids. She is so devastated that she feels she has no reason to live, so she walks in front of a moving car. She did not die. The husband now struggles with the aftermath and the fact that he still loves her, but does not trust her and maybe never will; which was the heartbeat of this poem.