Undeserving

I’m not sorry that I love you, and that I abhor him, him and him too.    
      
I’m sorry that I never shared that truth with you when it truly mattered, well before the slamming of that door as my heart shattered for the very first time that night.      
     
However, it’s too late now; just look at me and know that I love you even though I’m a fucking train wreck from every man that ever came after you, and the windows to my soul are tainted and blurred, and somewhat, emblazoned with graffiti which skews your view of what lies below the surface of me.      
     
I’m not constructed internally to play the role of a housewife, and I’ll never be open to performing that role whilst you run off to work and I self-indulge in wine like some pathetic kept woman who is devoid of any singular self orientated pursuance in life.      
     
I’m not sorry for the obvious phantom symptoms forthcoming of the empty nest syndrome which has me reaching for your hand.      
     
It makes me think I should’ve birthed more children before reaching 40, and as much as I adore my children and have upheld a promise to raise them right, it’s been a selfless and arduous solo journey without companionship in the traditional sense.      
     
And then, I think about the precipice that’s right in front of me, and the capacity to travel to faraway places to sate my wanderlust and satisfy my curiosity.      
     
That realisation dispels any regret I’ve harboured to take the road less travelled by many of my own counterparts as they centre their world upon the cock they’ve tethered themselves to; until death do us part.      
     
Unaware that those vows are flimsy when another woman wants to wrap her lips around the scent of my cunt via the remnants of his cock, knowing that his cock rules his world as he’s oblivious to the shattering that will occur to his world, when she finds out.      
     
Temptation, is a sociopath with her legs spread wide, and I’m a fucking delight that he chose daily for years on end, until he wanted to feel the velvety walls of another and watch me finger paint my breakdown all over his psyche until he no longer recognised who I was, and why he did what he did.      
     
In truth, I feel as though I’m on the cusp of enjoying my life again, and this time, I have the means to take me wherever I want without relying upon anyone else, and I won’t be residing in dingy rooms on top of smoky hotels with the blaring thumping base that doesn’t stop until 5am between Thursday to Monday.      
     
Y’know, the places that attract the broken and lost souls seeking to splatter their seed all over any woman that that’s hard up to be held because she seeks a man to nurture and nourish her being holistically; yet all she’ll find is the whiskey upon his breath as he violates her until she doesn’t recall what it means to love herself, more than any man ever could.      
     
I know that I’m a mess, and I acknowledge that your companionship might just unravel that, however I’m not too sure whether you need a barren companion to explore the world with, or a doormat to birth your children and nurture you in ways that I cannot.      
     
Today, I feel undeserving in the pursuance of your love, knowing that time has taken me to town, and left me homeless.      
     
Knowing, that your eyes always felt like home, even before I slammed that door, and ran off in the early hours with tears streaming down my face over the severance.    
     
Sighs.      
     
I can barely recognise that girl when I look in the mirror these days, and it’s apparent that I’m experiencing a mid life crisis !      
     
Rest assured, I won’t be fuelling up on alcohol, and wearing nothing but a piercing underneath a thinly cut above the knee skirt with a low cut blouse,  seeking one night stands from thirsty young men who would happily oblige and fuck my senses, for hours on end.