Adulterers And Thieves Poem by Luke Iglesia

I know the facts, I know the truth, but my gut… this - force - tells me that he stole her from me. I look at him and see an evil, but not a great evil. A pathetic worm under my shoe. A worm is more than this man. And this thief went and stole my most precious. But that's not the whole truth.

The truth is, she had left me eons ago - just - not to my face. "I love you" she said. "Together forever" was what I gave her. My forever. "Through thick and thin" we'd promised each other. "In sickness and in health" was the oath I felt prepared to give. I was prepared to sacrifice. But she was not. At least - not the things that would dare to separate us. She'd given up on me eons ago, and I had seen it. In her eyes, in her smile - she faked. She tried. But all she needed was a push elsewhere. I tried to maintain what we had for as long as I can, make the dream last forever, but you've got to wake up sometime.

He swept her off her feet. He groomed where he saw despair. He took advantage. He stole her from me. No matter which way I look, all I see is his smug fuckin' face when I told her that she could go. I let her leave because I knew her longing for someone else. She denies, and denies, and denies - but anyone of any frame of mind could see it clearly. She had left me eons ago.

"She left me? For him? That can't be right. Has she seen his posts? His vanity? Can't she see how terrible of a choice he'd be? " these things shouldn't matter. She'd left me eons ago. But I see him as if he were the devil and she were victim to some game he'd played. He's a thief. He's a thief. HE'S A THIEF. HE STOLE HER AWAY FROM ME. Me. Me. Me.

His vanity? Hah - look at me. I have made him the scapegoat to someone who is perfectly able to choose for themselves. "He manipulated her", "he took advantage of a bad situation for personal gain" and that might be the truth, and sure, she fell for it - but on purpose? Did she know? Does she still know? But is she lying to me? Round and around I ponder and waver, but refuse to see her darkly. "No, she wouldn't", "she couldn't".

Funny thing is - I don't trust people all that much - but I had hedged my bets with this one. She made me feel. She gave me joy. It's all about me, me, me, me, me. I tried to make her feel the same, but nothing I did could help her to sacrifice the things that would enable our love. "Enable". I always saw her as a victim to poor parenting. Poor family dynamics. It is still a problem. But she is grown and responsible now. She is able. And though she chose poorly, it was her choice. "But she's the victim". Is she?

I know the facts, I know the truth. He is the villain. And though she was made to be one, so is she. Perhaps unaware - maybe. Even if that were to be true, I could not know her. I could never know the truth. To preserve her image, I will never know the truth. Because honestly - truthfully - I know that to her, deep down - that's all she cared about. For the sake of those she had enslaved herself to, her personal image to them was the only thing that mattered.

I refuse. I refuse. I refuse. I refuse. I refuse. I refuse. I refuse.

Round and around - I linger.