My husband loved me, pity the fool,
We met when I was young,
When I was eager to please,
And grateful for his love,
He meant the world to me,
But we both changed,
And my love turned to hate.
It meant to much at the start,
But he grew bored,
Of my ageing body,
Of my belly that wobbled,
And the wrinkles,
That came to dominate my face,
My once golden complexion,
Lost in the sands of time.
My husband's loyalty faded,
His heart grew cold,
As did mine,
I would cook dinner,
I would fix breakfast,
And please him as best I could,
All the while plotting revenge,
For those extra-marital affairs.
He made a mockery of me,
He humiliated me,
And lied to me,
But to the outsider,
I was none the wiser,
Playing the sad and sorry fool.
He deserved pain and death,
To know how it felt to be betrayed.
So I went online,
With the few computer skills I had,
And managed to trick my way,
To a vial of cyanide.
Tonight we will have the talk,
And I will pretend to forgive him,
Of my ageing body,
And a face lost without youth,
And when the authorities come,
They will not know the truth.
He will have had a heart attack in bed,
His head,
Lying on the pillow dead,
His heart knowing how it feels,
To be broken,
The son-of-a-b*tch dead,
Gone forever.
But the police are here now:
They have discovered what I did,
Even though I did fabricate a story,
I will now rot in a prison cell,
My husband's body cold in the ground,
And I shall reflect on the hate,
That destroyed a lifetime of marriage.