All Inked Up

Three years it’s been since we said good bye.  Here we go again for one last try.  Is there any love left?  I think in my head.  Have I forgiven him?  His head he holds up high, as he walks to my door.  He looks like he is filled with pride, his hair all spiked and no shame in his eyes.  My heart is pounding and thoughts are rising; maybe he has changed, and we can work things out for the kids’ sake.  I am not the type of girl who can just be with someone for money, but since he has been gone, I cannot give the things to my children that I would like.  So, today, I am swallowing my pride and giving him one last try.

It’s weird not seeing three little ones straggling behind him.  Knock, knock.  “Hi,” I say embracing him with a hug.  Wow, love is still there.  I can feel it, the warm sense of energy entering my body.  My knees are weak, and all logical thinking is gone.  I never really stopped loving him; I just learned to live without him.  He said “hi” to my mom.  She smiled and asked how he’d been.  They continued to laugh and chat, while I ran into the bathroom to check my hair.  Not now; I look at my phone It is a text message from my recent “ex” whom I was about to marry but learned he was going back to prison.  It read, “Good luck and hope it all goes well.  All I ever wanted was for you and the boys to be happy.”  My heart dropped.  Really?!?  Then why the f@&k couldn’t you grow up?  I thought, “Jenny, hurry up!”  “Don’t you think you kept him waiting long enough?”, my mother yelled.  I strolled out of the bathroom.  He is standing there by my mom, showing her all his new tats.  My mom says, “May 29, 2003?  Why do you have that date tatted on you?”  ”For Jett’s birthday,” He replied.  “I am dizzy and feel anger in my chest like a volcano about to erupt.  “Get the hell out of my house! You haven’t changed and never will!”  Heartbroken, lost and confused, our son is almost eight years old, and he don’t even know the day my dear baby was born, selfish inconsiderate man.  Do not judge a book by its cover.

Jennifer “Jenny” Paul lives in Missouri and writes as a hobby, primarily writing poems for fun.  In her free time, she writes poetry based on her life.  Most of Jennifer’s poems are true stories. 

Please feel free to comment on this article here or join the conversation on our forum.

Image(s): FreeDigitalPhotos.net