Merely Hopeless

Inside of me there is a sadness that burns slowly. My soul is wounded and scarred. These embers do not rage with fiery flames; No, they burn ever so slowly, torturing me from within. Love can cool the suffering, ease the pain, yet for me it continues to be an agony that I can get no relief from.

Typically, one could call me a hopeless romantic, now, they merely call me hopeless. The love that I have worked so hard to maintain is not love of the heart but a love of convenience. It is a comfort to others to have this steadfast woman watching over them, to see that she shall remain no matter the discomfort she may feel.

How long must I feel as though I am dying inside? My soul is shattered and I can barely breathe Some days it seems there is no reason to continue on. He does not see that he is the weapon that will rip the next wound into my spirit and destroy my hope. He does not see that he is the one that decides our outcome, not me.

How many times must I accept the lies as his truths? How many times must I be set aside in order for him to give way to selfish, lustful thoughts and fantasies? Surely he must know, at least somewhere inside of himself, that I love him and that the lies are far worse than the acts of fantasy infidelity.

How many times will I have to continue to take the blame for what I have not done in order for him to rationalize what he has done? His actions speak so much louder than his words. He speaks of love undying. He says that I am the only one for him and that he is amazed at the beauty that remains after all of these years; yet, I am not enough.