I walk home - alone this time -
Hands forced deep into my warm pockets;
Red hat pulled down tight over my ears.
Hot, angry tears spill down my cheeks and
Drip onto the white snow that
Has settled overnight,
When we were asleep and dreaming
Curled up in the bends of each others bodies,
Soft, and dry, and safe.
Warm!
You were searching for the love you couldn't find,
I was giving away some that I had to spare,
And under the soft, white sheets, with me,
You found it.
We went for a morning walk,
Wanting to be the first to crunch
The new, white snow under our
Rubber-booted feet; feeling a sense of satisfaction
In the noise that new snow makes
As you skip and slide,
Enjoying yourself.
We got so far today,
Hand in mittened hand,
Giggling and throwing snowballs at each other
Which left trails of glittery spray in their wake
In the morning sun,
And your phone buzzed in your pocket.
We didn't here it at first,
But the second time it rang,
You slipped your hand from its glove,
And answered.
Your face dropped, and you seemed to
Fade into the snow a little,
Clutching the phone to your icy pink cheek.
When you hung up,
You turned to me, and took a deep breath.
"Aimee is suspicious," you say, in a low voice,
"I need to go home and see her and the kids,"
I tense up inside.
Your wife.
Your wife!
She doesn't know about me.
I am your secret pleasure,
Your precious Pandora's box.
You kiss me goodbye,
And run up a side road to the corner shop where you park your car.
And I must begin to trudge home,
Seeing our footprints
Walking next to each other,
Crossing over, turning round
Seeing the swirl of snow where you scooped me up
In your arms and spun me round
As the snow came down.
I must now walk home,
Seeing all this,
Being the other woman.
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