The Mistress

My husband is having an affair with a mistress that I cannot compete with. It doesn’t matter how much money I make or how much weight I lose; I am always in her shadow, wilting and dying. I cannot compare with their past, their connection or the comfort of when they are together. I am not, never have been and never will be the first thing he reaches for when he comes home from work. After a long, hard day his mistress is what gives him solace. When he has something to celebrate, he holds her high. Even when my hand is in his, she is always in the other. It’s an embarrassment in public, a sad repulsion in private.
Promises are worth nothing, assurances are fairy tales. It no longer matters when children are present, my husband is oblivious to any awareness or responsibility. His want and need for her are greater than any bond of our marriage or future of our family. She is always there, tempting him and seducing him. The lies began small, but the seeds grew. Bigger lies were needed to keep the first ones safe. Eventually I awoke in world of perdition, trust is broken and security is lost.
He is blind to the culmination of our future. The damage is done and the casualty of our marriage is laid out in front of me. He will turn to her for reassurance and she will help him find absolution from blame. I will become the weaker one in his eyes; I will become the one with the problem. There will never be a reflection that will show him the truth, for she will distort the image to keep herself safe.
When there is no one left to keep them apart, there will be a celebration of unholy gains. He will not be aware, for his desire for her has left him blinded to the truth. My husband was a great man that fell to the temptations of his mistress, alcohol.