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Image for the poem The Good Wife

The Good Wife

He’d stare out the window on the nights he wanted me.
There was power in the outline of his hips,
but weakness in the bowing of his head.

Was he praying to the god I didn’t believe in before
satisfying his hunger in my silence?
I knew my role and what he thought were my obligations.

I wondered what he said to his god, the author of life.
He never spoke a word while fucking me.
Written by Nizana (Lauryn)
Published
Author's Note
Written from the eyes of a friend once trapped in relationship similar to mine. We were both good wives at the time but no more.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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