Wife of a stranger

I am the wife of a stranger

They address me by a possessive title with a surname. His.
They add my tax to his, and we pay as one.
Everywhere I go, they ask me how he is and sometimes forget to ask how I am.
His mother thinks I don’t treat him well enough
His sisters want every outfit in my wardrobe
His brothers visit every Saturday. To get a free meal and a pocket change.
My children call him “daddy”
In my left hand I have the ring he gave to me 3 months after we met, 30 carat diamond ring. Coupled with the ring that represents his promise to me.

But there’s something missing.
Something that makes everything quite useless
Something that still leaves my heart hollow even when filled with joy.
Something that questions my part in this life
Something that makes me sit in the bathroom and cry, right before walking out to copulate with my mister.
Something that makes me wear a diplomatic smile when he expresses his love for me.
Something that leaves me stranded amidst undiluted elation.
This thing that troubles my heart so,
And restricts me from love
Is in deed, LOVE

6 thoughts on “Wife of a stranger

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